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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-23 06:21:20 -0700 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-23 06:21:20 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75691-0.txt b/75691-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7008607 --- /dev/null +++ b/75691-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6576 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75691 *** + + + + THE BEATING HEART + + + + + The Beating Heart + + + BY + + + VICTORIA CROSS + + + + + _Author of “Anna Lombard,” “Five Nights,” “Life’s Shopwindow,” + “Over Life’s Edge,” etc._ + + + + + + NEW YORK + BRENTANO’S + PUBLISHERS + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY + VIVIEN CORY GRIFFIN + + + All rights reserved + + + + + _Printed in the United States of America_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + 1. The Kiss in the Wilderness 1 + + 2. Colour 49 + + 3. A Novel Elopement 62 + + 4. The Jewel Casket 100 + + 5. The Vengeance of Pasht 116 + + 6. Village Passion 128 + + 7. Supping with the Devil 151 + + + + + _The Heart can beat with_ + + LOVE + DESIRE + PITY + SYMPATHY + FEAR + JEALOUSY + INDIGNATION + + + + + THE KISS IN THE WILDERNESS + + BY + + VICTORIA CROSS + + +They were coming up in a closed carriage from Jerico, a jolly, merry, +roystering crowd. Melisande whose real name was Eliza, late of the +Gaiety theatre, now married to a millionaire, Lord and Lady Hillingford +on their honeymoon, an old bachelor Major keen on reckless adventure, +and Miss Smith. + +To pass the time they were singing comic songs with resounding chorus, +which floated out of the open windows and echoed strangely from the +stony hills of the wide stretching barren wilderness that lies between +Jerico and Jerusalem. + +It was a brilliant night with a huge silver moon at the full hanging in +the sky above sending its floods of light down upon the lonely waste, +in which there was no tree nor flower nor bird: yet something moved at +intervals, a curious low four-footed shape with sloping spine and coat +so cunningly contrived in spots and lines of brown and white that it +matched exactly the patchy, stony hills and clefts and crannies amongst +the rocks through which the creatures flitted with their elusive +movements. + +The exhilarated crowd within the carriage took no notice except one, +Miss Smith who was always an exception to whatever the rest might do or +be. + +The supper at the Jerico Inn before their start had been good with +copious libations of the rich Greek wine and now Melisande’s golden +head was leaning on Hillingford’s shoulder while she shrilled out the +chorus from her coral mouth and the millionaire’s arm was round Lady +Hillingford’s neck and the Greek wine no doubt was to blame if she was +too confused to notice it wasn’t her husband’s arm. The old Major was +frankly overcome and curled up in a quiescent ball in his corner of +the great roomy old carriage, only Miss Smith sat quiet and sedate in +her grey travelling dress watching the shapes flitting among the rocks +in the moonlight. They were hyaenas Miss Smith knew what they were. +She was not intoxicated, she was not sleepy. She was not singing comic +songs. She sat up straight, alert and watchful. + +Her companions did not heed her. They generally left her alone +recognizing that while with them she was not of them. At the same time +they did not object to her. No one ever objected to Miss Smith. They +teased her goodnaturedly because she never drank, smoked, flirted nor +swore as they did and used to read and study dingy brown books in +the queer languages of the country and she as goodnaturedly smiled +and continued to pursue her own quiet way. Among other women she was +generally passed over and ignored and considered unattractive because +she was generally termed “good” and in these days to be a good woman, +is not attractive. A beautiful woman, a fast woman, a fascinating +woman, a wicked woman, any adjective almost, sounds interesting but +good no. So once having dubbed her good everyone let her alone and she +was allowed to wear her crown of Virtue unchallenged and undisturbed. + +In person she was rather tall and slender and affected quiet +well-fitting tailor made clothes. Her hair was of a warm brown shade +and very thick but so quietly done, pressed close to her small head +that no one looked twice at it while the frizzed out golden curls, +now getting thin from over much dying that flared in a halo round +Melisande’s head drew every eye. Miss Smith’s skin was cool and pale, +her eye grave and grey a different thing altogether from the sunny +saucy laughing blue beloved by man. Yet the eye had beauty in its +calm repose like a clear deep pool in a shady wood. She was 36 though +she looked only about 26 and her present and future had been kindly +settled for her as old maid by her friends. When she had first joined +the touring party, both the married men had attempted to flirt with +her after the way of married men but Miss Smith did not care for +flirtations with married men and did not want the attentions of the old +bachelor Major Mitchell who gallantly offered them. What she did want +was locked up in her own soul. + +She had been proposed to at 16 and had accepted. He was a young man +her father’s secretary. The engagement had pursued a tranquil and as +Miss Smith privately thought a disappointing course until one evening +when as he was leaving her after much long and as she thought boring +conversation, she ventured to whisper softly as he took her hand in +farewell “Kiss me.” + +Instantly she was enfolded in his arms and a kiss pressed upon her +lips, not an irreverent one but one full of force and electric fire +and pressed down so hard that her lips were painfully crushed upon her +teeth, under it. When he let her go suddenly she was absolutely white +dazed and breathless and involuntarily sank down on the chair nearest +her. + +The young man’s face was white too as they stared for a moment at each +other in silence. Not a word was spoken. He retreated silently, swiftly +to the door and vanished through it. She sat still where she was +until the beating of her heart grew calmer and allowed her to get up. +Then as the sense of physical shock passed she smiled. That had been +delightful! That was Life! That was Love! That moment compensated her +for the preceding boring weeks of her engagement. In that moment she +had had her first insight into that stupendous joy that we share with +the animals and primitive man alike. Perverted, degraded, chained and +beaten down out of sight, as the sexual instinct is by civilization, +there are still moments like these of innocent youthful joy in which we +see the face of Nature for an instant and realise her tremendous power. + +Little Christine Smith went to bed that night profoundly happy. +Engagements were not stupid after all. Life was not all dullness. +Poets and novelists were right. There was something in existence which +was marvelous and golden and glowing and it was love. She adored her +fiance now. Had he not in that electric wonderful kiss shown her the +majestic Force that he represented? It was overaweing, inspiring. All +night she dreamt innocently happily of the kiss that had lifted her to +heaven. In the morning there was a letter from him. + +Trembling and flushing she had carried it to her room to read alone. +His prayer no doubt to her to hasten their marriage so that there might +be more and more and more of those heavenly moments. But the letter +was not that. _It was an apology._ A craving of pardon for that +kiss. A promise that if forgiven he would never, never ever again. +Christine could not understand. Grown cold and white she read that +astounding letter over and over again and the more she read it the less +she understood it. What did he mean? What was wrong? Why was the kiss +wrong? It was not, her common sense told her that. It had been just +the revelation of his love for her in all its splendid strength and +ardour and she loved him for it, and now here was this stupid letter in +which he painted himself as a sort of criminal. She was dumbfounded. +But one thing was clear. He evidently thought the kiss was very wicked +and if she did not agree then he would think her very wicked also. +Christine sat very still and cold thinking, the gay mirage that Nature +had flung all about her dissipated and gone. Her primitive instincts +urged her to go to him and tell him he was mistaken. The kiss was +Right and he must take her in his arms and kiss her again and again in +exactly the same way give her again that wonderful glimpse of a golden +and rose-coloured world of ecstasy. But civilised 16 is rather shy. +Christine shrank from facing that cold condemnation that was in the +letter, turned upon herself. It seemed so impossible to explain, to +find the words to fit all those myriad feelings leaping within herself. +She was afraid he would not understand. + +At last after hours of thought she folded the letter and put it away. +He had said he would come that evening to hear her say she forgave him. +She decided she must say nothing but extend to him her pardon as he +desired. + +For months the engagement went on. Christine secretly hoped that once +again his feelings might betray him and that glorious moment come again +but it never did. + +The engagement was finally broken off and not by him. Christine told +him gently that she feared they hardly understood each other well +enough for marriage. + +The young man mournfully and humbly accepted her decree. To this day he +believes that it was that fatal moment (to her so ecstatic) that was +his undoing. + +There had been several engagements since then on the same dull formal +lines and terminated in the same way by her. They had not contained +any whirling moments such as the one she had experienced and for the +return of which she waited confidently as an astronomer for the return +of a comet. This time when it came.... + +Meanwhile she was not unhappy. She was strong and fleet of foot and +clear of eye. She had perfect health in a splendid well knit frame and +life was sweet and all the days of this tour through Palestine had been +very bright and fair. + +She had enjoyed especially this just finished visit to Jerico, going +down from Jerusalem in the early summer when the heat was so deadly +that not a soul except their own reckless party would venture down +there. + +The Hotel keeper at Jerusalem had begged them not to go! The season +for it was over the heat far too great but they had laughed at him. +They had been so cooked they declared a temperature of 110° could not +frighten them and the idea of going down down to the scorching plain +of Jerico, to the borders of the Dead Sea beneath which lay the sinful +Cities of the Plain had a delightful fascination in it. + +The road the landlord urged was extremely dangerous. It lay through +the wilderness and at this time the Bedouin Arabs were travelling up +and down. Caravans and long lines of them fully armed might be met at +any point. If go they must an escort of two armed soldiers would be +provided for them by the Government. What would be the good of two +soldiers against a band of robbers? Hillingford had asked and the +landlord had explained “If you have Turkish soldiers with you, no +matter how few, it shows you are under the protection of the Sultan of +Turkey the head of their religion the Sheik-Islam: they will not lift a +hand against their own chief. No one will touch you.” + +The party consented to take the escort but at the last moment it +did not arrive and they would not wait. Finally to the sound of +lamentations from their host, they drove away, in the capacious vehicle +with a good pair of horses and a single unarmed man as driver. They +went by night to avoid the blinding heat of the sun and here they were +returning by night by moonlight and the moonlight that falls on the +plain of Jerico and on the stony wilderness around it is as hot as +English sunlight. The party were well pleased with their visit they had +enjoyed it especially Miss Smith. She had liked the journey down down +into the simmering bowl of heat, at the bottom of which lay the rich +verdant tree filled plain of Jerico and the sparkling blue Salt Lake +called the Dead Sea. + +The Jerico Inn kept by a Greek where they stayed was a low white +building of immensely thick walls and almost hidden from view under +the shade of a gigantic fig tree whose wide spreading massive thick +leaved boughs filled the court yard with deep delicious shadow green +and cool. Here, on their arrival after midnight they had sat and supped +at a table neatly spread with bread and cheese and fruit and great jars +of honey and the rich heady wines of Greece and while the others had +rioted and jested and laughed and kissed Miss Smith had sat gazing up +through the fig leaves to where between them here and there a great +planet burned fiercely in the sky uneclipsed even by the silver light +of the moon. She was enjoying it all in her deep calm soul. The next +morning the rioters slept late in the cool stone chambers of the inn, +but she was up while the larks were singing overhead and the whole +fair plain of Jerico was smiling in fresh dew and early light. Alone +and unafraid and unmolested she found her way down to the edge of the +sparkling sea, undressed and bathed in its wonderful blue and limpid +waters that would not let her sing and clung round her snowy throat and +limbs like the heaviest thickest oil. + +Miss Smith thought of all these things now in pleasant retrospect as +the carriage lumbered along slowly up the stony road between the hills. + +Suddenly a sharp sound the crack of a rifle came stinging through the +silence, followed by a terrible thud in front of the carriage. Their +driver, doubled up in a sort of ball, fell from his seat and then +rolled heavily to the ground, the reins still in his hands. The horses +plunged and shied a little as his body fell close by their heels, but +they were too hot and weary in that long upward climb to run away. +They were startled frightened, something had happened but fatigue was +greater than any other feeling. They stopped dead still with heaving +sweating sides. + +The instant the carriage stopped, the occupants who had by now sung +themselves into a state of lethargy, woke up with a shock and the men +began to get out. Miss Smith had descended on her side and was first at +the side of the fallen driver. + +Miss Smith knew all about first aid and she saw here there was no aid +to be given. The man was dead. The old Major came to her side. He also +knew death when he saw it. “God bless me!” he ejaculated. “This is +dreadful, poor fellow! Poor fellow! What’s it all mean, eh?” + +Miss Smith did not answer, she was looking through the silver space to +a long broken line of rocks some 200 yards away. From these, men were +running up to them. In a few moments it seemed the carriage in which +the two women still sat, huddled together, was surrounded by a circle +of Bedouin Arabs. Each one carried a rifle in one hand and a short +knife was thrust into the broad sash folded many times round their +waist. + +Thought is very quick and Miss Smith had time to think even in that +alarming moment how handsome and picturesque a crowd they were. Their +dark faces were finely carved and featured with brilliant flashing +eyes and teeth. On their heads they wore what looked like two enormous +rolls of coloured cord, deep red and blue, forming a sort of turban and +falling in a twist on their shoulders at the back. A vest of coloured +silk and purple Zouave jacket, wide sash and cartridge belt, and loose +crimson trousers to somewhat below the knee made up a costume worn with +extraordinary grace on beautiful and stately figures of about average +height. These men were not specially tall but extremely lithe and well +proportioned. They closed round the little English group as leopards +encircle antelope. Two of them between them carried the soft limp body +of a shot hyaena. They laid it down by the body of the driver. Miss +Smith stooped for a moment and stroked softly the exquisite white fur +on its chest. Then she straightened herself and looked round on the +circle of eager dark faces and asked them in Arabic what they wanted. + +And then the whole English party realised that they were helpless and +useless in this emergency except for this slim quiet serene person, +whom they had laughed at and ignored. She was now the mistress of the +situation. Their lives and safety lay in her hands. They could only +stand by gaping helplessly while she, thanks to her dingy brown books, +parleyed with their enemies. + +It looked as if they were in an appalling mess and they depended on her +now to get them out of it. The women in the carriage put scared white +faces out of the window. + +“What do they say, the scoundrels?” queried the Major after Christine +in her musical voice had exchanged some sentences with the leader. To +Major Mitchell the best man living, if he had a dark skin, was always a +scoundrel. + +“He says they had no intention of killing our driver,” she replied, +“but a shot ricochetted from a rock that was aimed at a hyaena.” + +“Oh come that’s good!” said Hillingford, “well then can they help us to +get on anywhere?” + +“You must remember that is what they _say_,” she returned calmly +and then she resumed conversing with the Arab leader, while the women +in the carriage shivered in the heat and the English men cursed +themselves inwardly for having come without the Government guard. The +millionaire stole close to Christine’s side. “Offer them anything, +_anything_, a thousand, ten thousand, if we get safely back to +Jerusalem,” he whispered shakily. Christine turned her clear eyes upon +him. “I do not think _money_ is what they want,” she replied +regarding him steadily. What she thought they did want she did not say. + +John Briggs, millionaire, stepped back, white under his Eastern +sunburn. His money had smoothed out most ruts in his life. Was it going +to fail him now? He glanced at the other two men and it was three very +pinched looking faces that stared at each other in the moonlight, +while the long glistening barrels of the rifles held by the Arabs +sides, almost touched them as the circle drew nearer and the dark +eager countenances with their glittering eyes and teeth came thrusting +themselves close up to their shoulders. + +“Ugly business Jack,” muttered Hillingford. + +“Scoundrels,” repeated the Major whose vocabulary was limited, +clenching his fists. + +“This is just what the landlord said. Fools we were not to take his +advice,” said Briggs savagely. + +Then they were silent. Christine had finished a long talk with the +leading Arab and had now turned to them. + +“They say they don’t want money nor anything we have with us. That they +are not robbers and that the shooting of our driver was an accident. As +they have killed him however, they can do nothing without their Sheik’s +orders. He is called Sheik Lasrali and he has a tent pitched some +distance from here in the wilderness and we must all go there with them +and hear his orders.” + +“What cheek! The scoundrels,” burst out the Major. Christine’s even +brows contracted a little. + +“Do be careful Major and control yourself,” she said, “We are in a bad +enough position as it is, don’t make it worse.” + +“How are we to get to this Lasrali?” asked Hillingford. + +“We must walk,” returned Christine and he thought how well she showed +up, standing there in the moonlight, wholly undismayed, quite calm +and mistress of herself and talking easily and clearly that difficult +gutteral tongue which he had given up studying in despair. + +“We have no driver,” she went on, “and if we had the carriage couldn’t +go over that rough ground. It would be overturned directly. We have +got to go back some distance in that direction.” She pointed far back +across the stony waste towards the plain of Jerico whence they had come +and the travellers groaned involuntarily. To go back! Further away +from the city with its law and order and protection, further into this +savage desolation where the moonlight showed nothing but rocks and +stones where even the rough rocky grass struggled in vain for existence +and here and there bleached bones showed whitely on the ground. + +“There is no help for it” she said merely and turned to the carriage. +The women in it were sitting white faced and silent but like English +women faced with grave emergency their courage rose to meet it. There +was no complaint, no shrinking back. They opened the door of the +carriage and stepped down on to the stony ground without a word. + +The vehicle was packed in all its corners with small handbags and +cases, extra cloaks and wraps and sunshades. The Arabs peered in +curiously jabbering amongst themselves. There was a hasty consultation +between the travellers as to whether they could carry anything with +them. The Gaiety girl, Melisande, prayed for her handbag. It had all +her make up in it. Lady Hillingford could not bear parting from her +small flat case. Hillingford hastily opened his bag and extracted his +favorite razor. Miss Smith went to hers and pulled out her Arabic +dictionary. + +“Don’t take much,” she advised. “It’s so hot and we have a long way to +walk. The Arabs are going to leave a guard and the carriage and all +its contents will be perfectly safe. I have told them we must take the +horses out and take them with us. The Sheik will have water and food +and rest when we get there.” + +While the women fussed over their luggage, anxious as human beings +always are about trifles even with the great issues of life and death +hanging over them, and the Arabs sat down a little way off watching +them with an amused smile curling their dark lips and their rifles held +across their knees, the three men and Christine stood for a moment +together at the horses’ heads. + +“I wonder whether we’re wise,” Hillingford asked, “in giving in like +this? Suppose we said we would not go?” + +“The alternative is for us all to sit here under a guard while two +of the Arabs go off with a message to the Sheik and ask for orders.” +Christine answered, she had evidently discussed this with the chief +already, “but you see he might be ages coming back. Perhaps he wouldn’t +come till the morning and we’d get awfully tired waiting here and the +horses would get no water. Then he says the Sheik would be sure to send +for us, so we’d have to go in the end.” + +“Why should he send for us, damn him?” This from the Major. + +“The leader says he would not mind the men going on but he would be +sure to want to see the three ladies!” + +“Scoundrel!” shouted the Major. + +“I think we had better go and make no trouble about it,” said +Christine, “we may be able to reason things out with Lasrali.” + +The men nodded. There seemed no way out. An Arab came up and took out +the two horses, weary and dejected with the long toil. Christine patted +their necks and the Arab led them off the roadway. Next came another +Arab strung about with various small articles belonging to the English +that he had been deputed to carry by the leader. Hillingford and his +wife followed, then Briggs and Melisande, then the Major and Christine +and this small column of English was flanked on each side by a guard of +six Arabs. + +Christine turned and glanced back as they were starting. Two motionless +Arabs sat on the box seat of the carriage, their rifles on their knees. +Side by side on the ground lay the dead driver and the dead hyaena +mingling their blood in a small dark pool on the road. + +Out into the wilderness. Away from even the road, that wild desolate +and inhospitable as it is, has at least, each end in civilization. +But in the wilderness itself that stretches between the proud city of +Jerusalem and the fair plain of Jerico there one can see the face of +Loneliness itself and feel Starvation and Death lurking among those +never ending ridges of whitish rock rising from the arid, waterless +plain. The African desert with its soft films of sand, its glorious +mirage seems homelike by contrast with it. The American desert with +unbroken miles of sagebrush and its alkali pools seems inviting ground +in comparison. In the wilderness there is nothing but solitude and +stone and hyaenas grown fat on the corpses of wayfarers. + +Doggedly and in silence the little party went on. The two wives in +their thin high heeled shoes and silk stockings suffered most. The +men and Christine walked easily on flat heels over the loose stones +and uneven surface. But no one of them made any sound of discontent. +Melisande and Eva Hillingford stumbled along awkwardly and painfully +but bravely and the curls on their forehead and the silk blouses on +their chests were soaked through with sweat in the hot still air. + +Apprehension as to their possible fate had got its teeth well into them +now. Leaving the road, their only friend and guide, had brought them +to a sense of their utter helplessness. Even if left now unmolested, +they could not find their way back to it, they could only wander about +amongst these everlasting gleaming rocks, each one exactly like another +till they died. + +After a little while physical fatigue and pain shut out much reflection +on other things. They were intolerably thirsty and their limbs ached +from that curious rough walking similar to going up hill on an English +beach. The Arabs were not inconsiderate and did not even hurry them. +Only once when the Major lagged behind one of the guard pressing on +their heels poked the nuzzle of a rifle against his shoulder blades. +After that, rather than have it happen again, he stepped out more +briskly. + +The first light of the dawn showed faintly in the East, when the Arab +leader pointed out to the white weary crowd toiling on some large dark +objects not very far away. + +“Lasrali’s tents,” he said. + +It seemed as they came nearer quite a large encampment altogether a +great number of tents pitched near to a ridge of rock which slightly +overhanging made a sort of rough shed. Against this were grouped +various animals, camels, horses, donkeys and goats, some lying down +others standing round a heap of fodder put down for them. Christine +went forward and spoke earnestly with the Arab leading the horses: +making him promise to allow them to lie down and to give them plenty +of food and water as they could take it. He laughed showing all his +glittering teeth in the bright moonlight. + +“Lasrali would be very angry with me if I did not look after them. He +loves horses.” What a relief those words carried to her mind. A man who +loved horses could not be wholly bad. She fell back and told the good +news to the others. They were just on the outside of the encampment +now. Most of its occupants had retired apparently, but a long line of +cooking fires burnt redly still upon the ground. The chief man who +had so far all along spoken with Christine, gave his charges over to +the guard and disappeared into the largest of the tents to know his +master’s wishes. It was only a few minutes before he returned and +ushered them all in, holding back the tent flaps for them and then +bringing up the rear himself. + +It was a large and roomy tent well carpeted and with masses of silken +cushions lying about. Also there were little tables at which if sitting +on a cushion on the floor, one could comfortably write and read. + +Lasrali himself was seated in one of those capacious black wood chairs +inlaid with mother of pearl, so familiar in Damascus. Wearing a snow +white burnous, edged with gold embroidery and a gold band encircling +the hood of it, just above his black brows he presented a kingly +and dignified appearance. His face was handsome in the typical Arab +way. Olive skinned and oval with refined aristocratic features and +large dark eyes. In age he appeared about 38. In one rather white and +slender hand he held a long stemmed pipe which he appeared to have been +peacefully smoking when disturbed. + +As soon as the worn weary captives were ushered in, he rose from his +seat, bowed slightly and then immediately resumed it, ordering one of +his Arabs to bring forward cushions for his visitors. When these were +brought the three women sank down gratefully upon them, the men taking +their stand behind them until Lasrali waved them with a more decided +gesture to be seated also. Then he called up the leader to stand beside +him, and set himself to listen attentively to the man’s story, pulling +occasionally at his pipe and asking now and then a quiet question. + +The Arab leader went on with his interminable relation for endless time +as it seemed to the wearied English. With the exception of Miss Smith, +they could none of them understand a word and they were so dazed and +sleepy with heat and fatigue that the conversation came to their ears +only in an unmeaning blur. Christine was tired too, but her head was +clear and she sat bright eyed and upright on her cushion listening +intently to every word that was uttered. Much of the conversation’s +meaning she missed of course. It is impossible for a stranger however +well he knows a language to catch all that passes between two others, +not addressing him but talking rapidly to each other, but the drift of +it she gathered very well. At one time when the leader said something +as to money she took her courage in both hands and ventured to +re-inforce his statement. + +“There is a gentleman here,” she said, indicating Briggs, “who will pay +anything you like to ask in money for our release.” + +Lasrali regarded her in silence but did not reply and the leader turned +on her saying: + +“My master is very rich man, he does not seek money. He might be +pleased however to take a white wife.” + +“The dream of my life has been to win a white woman who is also a +lady,” supplemented Lasrali in a very low tone, “no sum of money can +weigh against such a dream.” + +Christine did not translate any of these sentences into English. They +sank into her heart and set it beating. In defiance of something within +her that seemed holding her back, she seized hold of the old phrases +and stated them as one who speaks from a sense of duty. + +“The English are a mighty people. We are few but if any of us are +injured, a great army will come to avenge us.” + +She thought she saw the faint flicker of a smile pass over Lasrali’s +face that he was too courteous to wholly indulge in. The leader was not +so ceremonious however. He laughed openly. + +“Your country used to be great and protect its subjects. It is too +lazy to do that now. Besides my master cannot be found in his native +mountains and the captive men would be killed and scattered to the +winds of heaven long before help came and the captive women would be--” + +The expression made the blood fly flaming all over Christine’s face and +Lasrali sharply reprimanded the Arab leader. + +“Do not talk to the lady at all,” he said with anger. “Confine your +conversation to me,” and he motioned him to come closer to his chair. + +After a long discussion between them Lasrali at last waved him to one +side and addressing Christine direct asked her and the other two ladies +to get up and approach him. This they did, Christine springing up at +once and the other two wearily dragging themselves to their feet. +Then they stood in a line before him and the Arab regarded them all +with grave attentive eyes. Dusty and tired, with rumpled hair and +damp faces, in their rather bright coloured clothes, hatless and with +arms and necks bare in the intense heat, neither Lady Hillingford who +was 25 and pale and dark, nor Melisande who had no age and was of the +flamboyant type, looked their best and being conscious of this did not +improve matters by their expressions. Melisande trying to get up her +footlight smile and Lady Hillingford frankly weary and disdainful. +It was on Christine that the Arab’s quiet gaze rested longest. Trim, +elegant, apparently untired, her clear pale skin rendered still paler +by the heat, her large eyes burning with keen interest and power, her +lips, glowing red, her thick hair unruffled in its soft close waves +about her head, she certainly presented the most pleasing aspect of the +three. Her gaze was fixed unwaveringly upon the handsome face turned to +her. She looked exactly what she felt, intensely interested. After a +lengthened survey which was in no way rude nor impudent, only evidently +extremely critical and observant of the minutest details, he turned to +his attendant and told him to conduct all the English to a private tent +and look after them except the lady who spoke Arabic and she should +follow them directly. Christine looked at her companions with her +cheerful smile and translated this adding, “Go ahead and leave me. I’ll +come as soon as I can.” + +They did not like seeming to desert her, but she had become so much +their leader and director in the last few hours and she seemed so +perfectly unafraid of the whole situation that they solemnly filed out +after the Arab in silence. + +The tent was now empty except for the handsome seated form and herself +standing before him, a slender, graceful English figure in her simple +grey clothes. The light from the great swinging center lamp fell on her +thick brown hair and showed a soft wavering colour in her cheeks as she +gazed steadily at her captor. She felt no fear as she heard the others +withdraw. She did not know what was going to happen to her, no word in +the long conversation had indicated what her fate might be and she knew +herself absolutely defenceless but her whole mind had been seized as it +were by a great expectancy and there was no room for any other feeling. +Physically she was in those moments intensely alive: every sense seemed +at its highest power. Her eyes took in every detail of the face and +form opposite her, her ears were conscious of the faintest rustle and +click of the curtain behind her as they fell to shutting her in, her +nostrils quivered to the strange scent of tobacco and camel, coffee and +wood fire, in the tent. Her whole being seemed rising on tip-toe to go +forward to something she did not know. Lasrali rose from his seat and +approached her. She did not retreat. Then in a single sweep of his arm +he had drawn her close up to his breast, he bent his head and pressed +his lips down hard on hers. + +Then suddenly she knew that here now, whirling down upon her through +the space of twenty years, was again the wonderful moment she had +known at 16 and never refound. It was here now. It was hers again. +Her head was pressed back on his arm. She could not move. Again the +pain on her mouth. Again the realization of being in the presence of a +tremendous Force and that not a destructive but an august beneficent +force, the constructive force of Life itself. Again that glimpse before +her eyes of something wonderful, something majestic and utterly beyond +the petty details of everyday existence. For the moment she seemed +united to something vast, eternal, primaeval, as indeed she was, to +the Impulse of Life itself that causes the whole universe to roll on +through its countless aeons. Her eyes gazed up to the dark beauty of +those above her but she did not see them with their lids half closed +over them and the straight black brows contracted into one line almost +as with severe physical pain above them. She saw before her mental +vision the magnificence of triumphal Life sweeping up towards her to +engulf her in its stupendous onrush. + +It was only for an instant: She was released suddenly and staggered +slightly, clutching at the central tent pole for support and white and +trembling just as she had been on that other evening long ago. But her +eyes were shining still with the joy of the vision and she smiled at +Lasrali now gravely regarding her. He took her arm and led her up to +his own vacant chair into which he gently pressed her. Then bending +over her he began to speak slowly and distinctly so that she caught +every word. + +“Listen. I want you. For the others I do not care. As you know I am +an Arab and not like the English supposed to have only one wife. I +can have a number but as it happens I have none now. If you will stay +and be my wife, I will let all your companions go. I will give them a +driver and a guard and they will go safely on their way to Jerusalem. +Nothing of theirs will be taken and I will send two of my Arabs to +explain the shooting.” + +He stopped, waiting for her reply and Christine in the crisis of her +fate seemed suddenly struck dumb. The immensity of her feelings, the +intense desire to express all that was surging up in her soul seemed +to paralyse her utterance as a volume of water gets choked by its own +pressure in the narrow neck of a vessel from which it is struggling to +escape. She, the glib interpreter for others, she, the student who had +read Arab poetry by the hour was now tongue tied and silent, unable +to utter one little word of love or encouragement to the man bending +over her. She thought the beauty of his face so perfect, its expression +now so infinitely soft and tender, that she longed to throw her arms +about his neck and tell him that she loved him and would those words +have been any less true, any more exaggerated an expression than when +an English society girl says, “I love you,” to a man she is going to +marry, after a three weeks’ engagement? + +Rather, the truth of it was so intense in Christine’s case and the +realisation of it so overawing that her lips were locked and her limbs +seemed inert. She struggled as we struggle in dreams to speak but not +a single world would come to her aid. She could only look and look back +to the eyes above her. Her dilated, appealing gaze might have been one +of helpless, fascinated terror and her heart thumping so violently in +her bosom blanched her face and lips. + +A shade of disappointment came over Lasrali’s countenance. + +“You will stay to save your friends?” he repeated and Christine managed +to force her trembling lips to a weak, yes. + +“Aiwa.” + +Lasrali gave a deep sigh as of relief and straightened himself. His +face relapsed into its habitual gravity as he said: + +“I see you are very frightened but there is no need. In my tent you +will not be hurt or grieved. You will be safe, protected, I believe +happy. I shall try with all my force to make you so. You are very tired +now, go and rest; eat and sleep. Peace be with you.” + +Again Christine tried to respond but the whole view of this love and +life so suddenly forced upon her seemed too great for her to assimilate +and to find quickly the suitable words a vehicle for her thoughts. And +the moment for her to speak and accept seemed maliciously to have gone +before she could grasp it. + +If it was impossible for her to speak while he bent over her, his face +suffused with tenderness, it seemed still more hopeless to do so now +when he had drawn a little away and his usual calm and dignity had +enfolded him. + +She hesitated clasping her hands, not as he fancied in supplication +to him, but to those unseen powers that were holding her, preventing +her disclosing her feeling towards him. Her mind was staggered and as +we fail when suddenly we come into view of a colossal mountain or a +huge giant tree, to summon words in which to describe our admiration, +because words seem so inadequate, so did Christine fail now. + +Lasrali did not touch her again but with a grave gesture, waved her to +the door of the tent, the curtains of which he himself held back that +she might pass through. + +With a look of intense gratitude, admiration and love, which he +translated as one of final appeal, she passed out and he was left alone. + + * * * * * + +When Christine entered the other tent, the rest of the party were +seated in the centre, round a piece of carpet on which stood a coffee +pot of steaming coffee, a jug of goat’s milk, white bread as good as in +the Jerico hotel and a pile of dates. + +They raised jaded looking enquiring faces to her as she joined the +circle and sat down. + +“It’s all right. You are quite safe. Give me some coffee and I’ll tell +you.” + +“Hurrah!” exclaimed Briggs. “Well you are splendid. What does he say?” + +“He says, first we must all sleep here and rest until it’s cool +to-morrow afternoon. He will then send you all with a good driver and +an armed escort up to Jerusalem and an Arab who will explain all about +the shooting and see that the proper people are sent after our driver’s +body, which will be guarded till they come.” She paused and drank up +her coffee. A relieved sigh rose from the others, from all except the +Major who would not look relieved. He glared fiercely into his coffee +cup in silence. + +“How wonderful!” said Lady Hillingford. + +“Good fellow,” from her husband. + +“Thank God,” said the millionaire. + +“Well, he’s a darling,” declared Melisande. + +Then Christine quietly threw her bombshell. + +“Yes, only he says one of the women must stay.” + +“Scoundrel,” shouted the Major, banging his cup down on the carpet. + +“Ah, I _thought_ so,” murmured Lady Hillingford turning very white. + +The two husbands looked at each other across the coffee without a word. + +“Which one does he want?” asked Melisande drawing out her little mirror +from the bag on her lap and puffing out her golden locks at the side of +her head with her jewelled fingers. + +“Me,” replied Christine. + +“_You?_” exclaimed both ladies at once with an emphasis which was +not at all complimentary. + +“Yes: seems strange, doesn’t it?” returned Christine tranquilly, +sinking her white even teeth into her dates with keen satisfaction. +She was evidently going to enjoy her supper to the full. + +All eyes turned on her. Her companions stared at her in those moments +as if they had never seen her before. And indeed it was a new Christine +from the one they had been travelling with. The primaeval woman was +rising in her in all her strength and glory and arming her with new and +wonderful weapons. In her skin which had a curious transparency was +kindled a lovely rose flush, her eyes were no longer still dark pools +but rather wells of moving fire, her lips were redder than Melisande’s +painted ones. As she sat her slender body rose full of proud grace from +her cushion seat. + +There was a long pause, full of tension. Somehow the ladies looked +displeased and the men not less concerned than before. Melisande was +the first to break the silence. + +“What did you say?” she asked abruptly as Christine continued to eat +calmly and cheerfully. + +“Said I’d stay.” + +“Said you would stay?” gasped the men together. + +“Yes, of course. I wasn’t going to get you all shot and Eva and Sandy +kept as prisoners as well as myself. I didn’t see the use.” + +“Oh, but look here, we can’t stand this,” broke out Hillingford. “Do +you think we could go back and save ourselves at your expense like +that?” + +“Well, what would you propose?” asked Christine pouring more milk into +her coffee. + +“Er--well, I--er--don’t know--I should think they’d never dare +to--to--” he stopped. + +“I don’t know either but they might dare a good lot. I heard a great +many cheering references to ‘Dead men tell no tales,’ while the +leader was talking to him. He seemed to think it was a splendid plan +for you three men to be shot and then for Lasrali to disappear into +the wilderness with us three women after duly rewarding his faithful +followers with our horses, carriage, bags, and jewelry and burying the +driver under a rock. It sounded a most engaging programme and I was +afraid each minute Lasrali would accept it. But he wouldn’t.” + +“Did you offer him all he liked to ask if he would let us _all_ +go?” asked Briggs. + +“I did and he said it had been the dream of his life to--to marry a +white woman and a lady and he would not give it up for any amount of +money.” + +“Scoundrel,” exclaimed the Major. + +“Did you say that although we seemed a small party we had all the power +of England and the law behind us and he would certainly suffer very +much if he injured us?” + +“I did: and he said England wasn’t much good now and didn’t protect her +people worth a cent. Besides which nobody could possibly get at him in +the wilderness until--until, well, until he’d realised his dream.” + +“Devil! Devil!” shouted the Major who had at last got on to another +word. + +The others all sat pale and silent. The tremendous end of their +journey to the Dead Sea taken so thoughtlessly and gaily was coming +close up to them now and appalled them. + +It was Hillingford who spoke first. + +“I don’t know what you others think about it but personally I feel I’d +rather stay here and be shot than save myself at a woman’s expense. +Damn it, I say, we _can’t_ go back and leave you here.” + +“Our wives, Hillingford, our wives, we’ve got to think of them,” +murmured Briggs. He doubtless did think of his wife, but also somewhere +at the back of his mind he had the feeling that Eternal Justice would +be better satisfied by Miss Smith becoming an Arab’s bride than by John +Briggs with all his millions being murdered in the wilderness. + +“If I know Eva,” Hillingford returned hotly, “she’d die here with me +rather than sneak out of a thing like this.” + +Lady Hillingford looked back at her husband. Her face was dead white +but she knew what she had to do and say and played up to her caste. + +“Certainly, Will, I’ll stay. I have no doubt you can finish me with a +rock or a knife.” + +Christine looked over to him with a smile in her now lovely eyes. Then +having finished an excellent meal, she sat back on her cushion and +wiped her pink tipped fingers on her little handkerchief. Then she +stretched out a small hand to Hillingford. + +“It’s most awfully good of you Lord Hillingford and I do appreciate +it. But I should simply hate for all our lives to be wasted. I should +want to do the same and stay and save you, in any case but as it is +you needn’t worry at all. You can all go off with clear consciences. We +came out for adventures and this is the biggest we’ve had. It’s mine +principally and I’m going to take it. I think Lasrali hasn’t been half +bad in spite of what the Major says. He has very self sacrificingly +picked out the plainest and least attractive woman simply because she’s +free and the others have husbands. I like him and I’m going to stay and +marry him.” + +This was another bombshell amongst them that left them gasping. Only +Melisande did not seem surprised. She watched Christine with a little +malicious smile. + +“Good heavens!” was all Hillingford seemed able to answer and the +distress on his face hardly lightened. Briggs was candidly and openly +pleased. It had been an awful moment for him when he really thought +Death was coming for him through his stockade of money-bags. + +“Very plucky, I call it,” he said, “daring little devil, isn’t she +Sandy?” + +“Oh, very,” returned Melisande getting out her cigarette case and +lighting up. + +Suddenly the Major banged both clenched fists down on the carpet square +making the coffee cups dance and jingle. + +“You an English woman going to marry that devil and _like it_. +Faugh!” + +In his indignation he tried to struggle to his feet but being short and +fat and seated on a cushion he found this very difficult and nearly +rolled over into the coffee cups. Christine sprang to her feet and +offered him her hand. + +“I think we’re all dead tired,” she said, “let’s go to bed and talk in +the morning.” + +The rest of the circle broke up. They were tired beyond all words and +got up and approached thankfully the great square at the back of the +tent where rugs were unrolled and a quantity of cushions laid out. +They ranged themselves in the following order. Lady Hillingford, then +her husband, then the millionaire, then his wife, then next her in the +outside Miss Smith. The Major would have none of them. He stalked up to +the capacious bed and took his cushion and small rug. + +“I despise you,” he said in a fierce undertone to Miss Smith as he +grabbed his pillow. + +“Sorry,” replied Christine and threw herself full length beside +Melisande. She longed for rest and a cessation of talk and discussion, +to lie still in the darkness and listen to the Voice of Nature in her +ear and feel the kiss of Life burning on her lips. + +They drew the great rug which they shared in common over them, for with +the dawn a little chill was coming into the air. + +“Put out the light as you pass, Major,” called Briggs, and the Major +did so throwing his rug and cushion down as far from the others as he +could get. No one spoke any more and sleep came down heavily like a +great cloud upon them and enfolded them. Except (as usual) Christine. +Stretched out still and looking into the soft darkness, she lay and +thought. + +Here after all these years, winging its way to her across the gulf +of time and space had come again the joy she had known when on the +threshold of life. + +She had come into the barren desert which gives nothing neither shade +nor rest nor water nor food, and it had given her this. + +How strangely things happened; she had joined this touring party, +hoping for fun and adventure, all the amusing little adventures of +travel and suddenly she had stumbled into the biggest adventure that +could happen to her that would change her whole life. + +She was, what so very few of us are, free from the necessity of +consideration for others. She was without relations, home or family +ties. Without any dear ones to regret or that would regret her. In the +twenty years that had intervened between that first engagement and the +present time, one by one every one that belonged to her or who loved +her had been taken from her. She had felt the extreme loneliness of +this grow upon her and had wildly resented it at times, but here now +she saw that it was enviable. Without remorse or regret, she was free +to accept this great experience, now she had come face to face with it. +She had nothing to hold her nor restrain her from going forward to it. +There was nothing in the life behind her to hold out a single detaining +hand. She had not even a pet nor a house that needed attention and +arrangement. + +She was one of those single women with a sufficient income to dress +well and live in the best hotels who spent her time studying, motoring, +dancing, amusing herself in all legitimate, civilized ways, travelling +widely and looking, always looking for something. With some of them if +they are plain and stupid it is love they are looking for, sometimes +only a kiss. Christine had never had to seek for love and kisses +she could have had by dozens. It was because she was looking for a +particular kind of love, a special sort of kiss, that the search had +been long. She did not seek brutality nor cruelty, those are totally +different from though often confused with force, intensity. The real +true strength of Love that is striving to create Life in a beloved +object that is what she had been seeking and had now found and she +could not see that she had to make any particular sacrifice for it. She +admired the grave dignity and beauty of the man himself and she had +felt that strange sharp call of his individuality to hers, which is +after all the basis of all love between the sexes whether civilized or +uncivilized. The one quality which to her was one absolute essential +in any man she was to love, tenderness and kindness to animals seemed +assured by what his servant had said. Had she really known anything +more of her father’s secretary, than she knew now of Lasrali? She could +have married him for the sake of that golden moment in his arms and she +was now going to marry Lasrali for exactly the same reason. In her eyes +it was quite as good a reason as marrying to obtain a house in town, a +settled income or a title. She saw very clearly that Nature, cruel as +she is in the deaths, disease, pain and all the woes she sends upon us +and the animals has yet in her hands for all created things this one +supreme joy and consolation for all the suffering of life, the joy of +simple, natural unrestrained love. No animals fail to realise this and +few men and women in a natural state, but in a civilized state there +are hundreds of thousands who live, marry, suffer and die without one +glimpse of this Eternal Truth. + +So far Christine had steadily avoided marrying anyone, between whom +and herself there did not seem to be that strange wild magnetism, that +irresistible call and challenge to the senses, getting out of her +numerous engagements as best she could and submitting to being angrily +and furiously called a jilt, which she knew was not true. She was +simply one looking for gold and consistently refusing the dross that +was pressed upon her in its place. + +Lasrali did not sleep that night. All through the remaining hours he +sat wide eyed in his chair, sometimes drawing at his pipe but more +often idle staring down at the carpet that kept the stony dust of the +wilderness from his fine narrow high arched feet. A very hardy struggle +was going on within him and he was fighting bravely against the +greatest power in the Universe, outside that still greater power that +has been given to the soul of man. + +Several times his wearied attendant outside raised the tent flap a tiny +bit and looked in only to see his master still sitting there as a +statue, lost in thought. + +It is absurd to limit the good and bad impulses in man by any creed, +caste, or colour. The human soul has no such limits. Nobleness, +generosity, self-sacrifice, dwell indiscriminately in black, yellow, +red, and white races alike. Evil, also is scattered impartially +through the whole of humanity as witness the loathsome cruelties and +barbarities committed by men of our own time and race under the name +of Scientific Research which surpass in horror anything done by savage +tribes. + +At last when the morning was fairly on its way, he summoned his Arab. + +“Are the English still sleeping?” + +“Yes, they all sleep very soundly: a good time to kill the men now if +you wish.” + +Lasrali lifted his hand in protest, his brows contracting. + +“Listen. When the English wake, take them water for washing and all +they need. Then a good meal. While they eat, come and rouse me if I +should be sleeping. When they finish their meal, bring them here to me.” + +The Arab bowed and went away muttering. Lasrali, exhausted, passed +through the curtains to his inner tent to sleep. + +Although Christine had slept less than the others she was the first to +awake, when the light was sinking in the tent and the flush of sunset +was stealing over the wilderness, softening all its grim, glaring +whiteness. She looked round with a feeling of surprise that the day had +vanished, they had slept it away. It seemed strange to be waking to +the rose of sunset instead of the rose of dawn as she was accustomed +to do. She lifted herself from the rugs and looked at the sleepers +beside her. Hillingford was the only one whose eyes were open and as he +met her glance he smiled and as if by common consent they both rose, +very quietly so as not to disturb the others and went out of the tent +together, passing by the Major still soundly asleep by the door. + +The encampment outside was an animated scene, cooking fires were +sparkling everywhere and Arabs coming and going between them preparing +the evening meal. The line of camels and other animals were feeding +leisurely under their rock shelter, all the tent doors were open except +the great double one, really two tents, joined together, one behind the +other, which belonged to Lasrali. Of these the door flaps were closed +and fastened and two Arabs sat on the ground before them. + +Christine looked out on it all curiously and smelt the scent of the +wood fires rising in the hot still air with a curious leaping of the +heart. Why is it that the scent of the camp fire affects all or nearly +all mankind with a strange feeling like nostalgia? Is it because on its +fragrance our senses are borne back to primaeval times when our first +camp fires smoked in the untamed forest? + +She glanced across to Lasrali’s tent and the sight of its closed door +struck her with a sense of loneliness. Her life henceforth would lean +upon him. This scene that she looked upon would be its outside shell +but there was nothing in it that she cared about except himself. + +She turned to Hillingford who stood beside her. The Arabs about them +glanced at them sideways, but the Mahomedan from his earliest years +is taught not to stare and the long dark eyes were drooped again +immediately over boiling kettle, or rice bowl as if they had seen +nothing unusual. + +“There are just one or two things I should like you to do for me,” she +said gently, “if you will.” + +“Of course, I will, anything,” he returned gazing at her in the +soft rose light that fell all about them from the tinted sky. How +wonderfully well she was looking he thought with no toilet made nor +adjuncts of any kind. He did not realise how the great force of +expectant life was awakened and moving within her, painting her cheeks +and lips, kindling and softening her eyes. + +“You know I have no near relations,” she went on, “so there’s no +one to see or to tell about me, but I should like the money I have +to be safeguarded. Will you be my trustee and look after it for me? +And re-invest the income, so that in the future, if there should be +any--any, well if it’s wanted it will be there. In my bag when you go +back to the carriage you will find a small packet of all my papers, +bank book, check book, etc. Will you take possession of it. That will +give you all the details. And send me back by one of the Arabs my +little case of clothes. I shall want that here.” + +“I’ll do anything and everything,” he returned, “but you must authorize +me about the money here,” and he drew out his pocket book and gave it +to her. “Write down there that you wished me to act for you. Here’s +a pen.” He gave her his own stylographic and she looked at it for a +moment in silence. + +“Isn’t this all funny? Doing this civilized sort of business out here +in this wilderness. What an end we have had to our tour!” + +“Yes, it’s awful,” groaned Hillingford, “I shall never forgive myself +or feel the same again.” Christine had seated herself on a great stone +and was writing rapidly in the pocket book all that she thought was +necessary. When it was done, she handed up the book and pen to him. + +“Will that do?” + +Hillingford read it through. + +“That’s all right,” he said and shut the book and replaced it. “But we +shall send after you and rescue you as soon as we get back.” + +Christine still seated put her hand round her knees and stared over the +small space that intervened to the closed tent door of Lasrali. + +“Do you remember your Roman History?” she said slowly after a minute. +“You remember how the Romans carried off the Sabine women and how +after a time the Sabine husbands and fathers came after them to rescue +them and the Sabine women came out and said they were happy with their +Roman husbands and didn’t want to be rescued? It was too late. Well +it’s the same now. I am sure it will be too late. Besides this I am a +sort of hostage. If you come after me to rescue me I believe you won’t +find me because Lasrali will go far, far away in the mountains and +hide.” + +“But surely he could be found. We could get an army to scour the +place,” remonstrated Hillingford in hot desperation. + +Christine shook her head. + +“It might be possible to find and punish him but what about me? I +should think I should be killed when the news first came to him he was +being followed and don’t you see he has us all in his power _now_? +If he lets you go, you are on parole, as it were. You can’t pursue him +afterwards,” Hillingford groaned, then he burst out, “He’s no right to +keep you.” + +“No, but I am staying of my own free will. Don’t attempt to rescue +me. You will only make fearful trouble if you do and it seems to be +dishonourable when he has had you in his power and let you go. Be quite +happy about me, really. I have had so many years of ordinary civilized +life I am quite prepared to accept this adventure as a change and make +the best of it.” + +Hillingford was silent, staring down at the ground. + +“Do you despise me, too, like the Major?” she asked with a little laugh. + +“Good heavens, no, I think you are a heroine. Of course, I know +whatever you may say, you are only doing it for us!” + +Christine’s brows contracted. + +Again this wall of hopeless misunderstanding. She could not clear it +away. She could not explain to him for he would never understand. They +spoke the same language, they were of the same country, class and +creed, yet she felt further from him, in a way, than she did from the +stranger who was their host. + +Hillingford who was girt about with conventions and civilization got on +very well with the half of Christine that was conventional, civilized +woman, the other half the simple, natural primitive woman he would not +have been able to understand at all. + +Christine did not attempt further explanation all she said was: + +“Well, remember the Sabine women and don’t rescue me. I don’t want it. +I think it would be dishonourable and extremely dangerous. When I want +civilization again I’ll find a way of getting back to it. Now, promise. +Then I shall feel safer and happier,” and very reluctantly Hillingford +promised. + +The rosy glow was fading, stars sparkled in it here and there. In the +East a great pale moon came up reminding them of the approaching hour +of departure. + +In silence they walked back to the tent. The door was open and an Arab +was lighting the central lamp, while two others were spreading out a +meal on the carpet. The women were arranging their hair before scraps +of looking-glass and the men sat moody and silent watching the Arabs at +work. + +It was a short and quiet meal, less lively than their supper last night. + +There seemed nothing more to be said. No one seemed to have any ideas, +or to wish to speak. A sullen sort of apathy had settled on them all +as if they were a flock of overdriven sheep. Christine alone looked +radiant and clear-eyed and sat looking through the door of the tent +towards that other one of which she could just see the closed flaps. At +last she saw movement about it. Arabs went in carrying coffee and Arabs +came out and at last one crossed the space to their tent and entered. + +“The horses are refreshed and ready. All is now prepared for your +departure and our Master would be pleased if you will come to his tent.” + +Not knowing yet whether they were all going to be executed at the last +moment or not the English all rose and followed the Arab out of their +tent across the now moonlit space to the other one and were ushered +gravely in. + +Lasrali was standing to receive them. The audience was to be short so +no cushions were prepared nor offered, of which the Major was very +glad. They filed in. Christine as the interpreter and the only one +who could understand was pushed a little forward and stood in front +of the rest. Her eyes alight, her cheeks and lips glowing, her form +full of elastic strength, she looked as she felt in the first flush of +womanhood. Her face was smiling as she looked up at him and Lasrali +looked down at her as a man dying of thirst looks at a crystal spring. +Then he began to speak very clearly and restrainedly. + +“I am an Arab and a host is a host, and guests are guests. I tell you +now you are all free. Last night I made conditions I should not have +done. They do not exist this evening. With my escort you will all +proceed to Jerusalem and may peace be with you.” + +He stopped and Christine, paling a little, repeated it in English. + +Then Lasrali approached her a step nearer and added: “Sacred is the law +of hospitality. I infringed it last night. I touched this lady. To her +I apologise.” + +Utter silence. Christine stood as if actually turned to ice or stone. +Her color fled. She gazed up at Lasrali as if he were demented. Her +companions to whom the words conveyed nothing grew cold with fear. What +now? What in heaven’s name had he said? Was all that first palaver some +ghastly joke? Had he now suggested they should be eaten alive or what? +They gazed at Christine, longing for her to speak and fully prepared +for the worst. Her face was a study of astonishment, agony and despair. +The Major couldn’t stand it. He went up behind her and shook her arm. + +“What’s he said now? The scoundrel!” + +Lasrali bent towards her with grave kindness. + +“Perhaps you do not understand. You are free. Go with your friends. I +regret that your beauty last night overcame me.” + +Christine still stood white and silent and trembling. Was it possible? +Here again the very idea, the actual words that had ruined her +happiness at 16! Here in this man of different race and caste and +blood, country and creed, the same misunderstanding. Were men all +alike? Was it only Woman who saw clearly back to the primaeval fount of +things and recognized in passion the joyous force of life? + +“Christine!” it was Lady Hollingford’s voice sharp and thin. She was +delicate and nervous and she felt she could bear the strain no longer. +“Do tell us what he says, whatever it is!” + +In a flash Christine saw how this little accident of knowing the +language put them all in her power. Her friends, their safety, Lasrali, +his reputation, were all her toys. + +For the moment the temptation came to her to mistranslate his words. +Just to say he dismissed them as had been arranged and was keeping her. +The primaeval woman fighting for her ends prompted this. That would +satisfy all these civilized fools and they would go and leave her in +peace with the heroine’s halo round her head. It would be so difficult +otherwise perhaps to stay. + +But the impulse was pushed aside instantly by her feelings of truth and +honour and responsibility to those who trusted her. Also she would not +rob Lasrali of the credit for his fine feelings and his self-sacrifice. + +Stammering and hesitating because of the amazement gripping her, she +gave out his words in English exactly as he had spoken them and the +relief of the others was mixed with surprise. + +“Well, that’s all right! What’s the matter with you?” asked Lady +Hillingford, but Melisande only laughed. + +“Please leave me now I desire rest,” Lasrali said. + +“Do thank him for us and tell him how grateful we are,” Hillingford +said and Christine mechanically turned his words into Arabic. Slipping, +slipping from her she saw the golden moment, never to be captured +again. The English are not a graceful people. They tried to bow and +salute Lasrali who stood there reposeful and dignified but they were +not very good at it and in a sort of huddled bunch they got through the +tent curtains. The Major marched out with flat defiance. + +“Showed the white feather after all, didn’t dare to touch us, thought +so, damned scoundrel!” was his farewell remark. + +Christine was the last to leave. The others had preceded her and the +curtains had fallen to behind them. Her hand was on the dangling +fringes. She looked back. The tent was empty. At the other side of it +were the curtains dividing off Lasrali’s sleeping tent. Through them he +had disappeared. Should she? Dare she? Race after that fleeting, golden +moment which was now eluding her for the second time? Behind her lay +all those years of an existence she knew so well. Almost every form +of civilised amusement that a modern age provides had been hers. And +love in all its delicate restrained civilised ways had been offered her +again and again but there had seemed something tame and flat about it +all. Before her stood Life in another dress or rather in an unashamed +barbaric nakedness which had some strength and glory about it. Above +all it was something new. She seemed in those seconds to visualise it +as a dancing, laughing figure, taunting her, daring her to come after +it. And she would dare. Beyond the further curtains was burning a great +electric force that was calling to every nerve and pulse and fibre of +her frame pulling her irresistibly to itself. + +The curtains dropped from her nerveless fingers. Swift, silent as a +shadow, she passed across the space and drew back the curtains that +had closed behind Lasrali. A dim light burned in the tent. Beyond she +saw his unrolled bed. He himself was standing still gazing at the +ground. He turned and saw her as she entered, not weak nor white nor +trembling nor hesitant now, but alive, determined, triumphant, glowing, +expanding, the future mother of a bold and hardy race. Eyes shining, +she advanced towards him with outstretched hands. + +“Lasrali! don’t send me away! I want to stay here with you!” + +A flash came over his face as of some great enlightenment. He put both +his hands on her shoulders and gazed keenly into her eyes but hers did +not waver. They glowed and glowed carrying their message straight to +his. + +“Is it true?” he asked. + +“Yes, I swear it by the Koran.” + +Over his face so superbly gifted by Nature, swept that wonderful, all +enveloping softness and sweetness that filled her with ecstasy. + +“Then the dream of my life is realised.” + +“And mine,” said Christine. + + + + + COLOUR + + + _Circumstances sometimes make us virtuous against our will._ + + +George Morris was pottering about at the back of the dusty, dingy +little picture shop, while the dealer had gone to fetch the picture +backing George had come in for, when he noticed set away on a shelf a +little sketch and paused before it fascinated. It was a most attractive +little thing, all red: everything in it was a delightful warm, rich, +glowing crimson. The background was red--the interior of a room full +of firelight. A bed hung with red curtains occupied the centre with an +undraped woman’s figure of the loveliest lines, getting into it: one +ivory knee pressed the side of the bed: her fair hair, glinting with +red in the firelight, fell over her shoulders and her rounded arm, +uplifted to draw aside the curtain. Underneath the picture was written +the one word, “RUBY.” + +George Morris, city man, living in the suburbs with Mrs. Morris in the +dull, solid round of English existence, felt his heart leap up suddenly +in response to the call of the picture. Under a plain, prosaic exterior +this man had a deep natural love for romance, a thirst for adventure, +a longing for the “wine, woman and song” that seemed never to form +a part of his humdrum life. He thought of Mrs. Morris and her dull, +plain face and the ginger-brown gown she seemed to live in. Why did she +always wear brown, he wondered? Why not red, for instance? He thought +of their bedroom at Meadow View, Mervyn Road: its linoleum floor, its +iron bedstead, its white walls, its narrow grate filled with tissue +paper and never guilty of a fire. In fact, it was always so cold that +Maria Morris wore very thick nightgowns and woolly jackets to keep +warm, and the electric light was so expensive now that she would hardly +allow it to be used upstairs, and always said they could just as well +undress in the dark. + +George sighed. Why was Maria like that and his bedroom like that? Why +should he not have a rich, warm, red room like this ... and ... and...? + +“There you are, sir: the best three-ply there is for picture backing.” + +George turned round with a start. He had quite forgotten his errand. + +The dealer was peering at him through his spectacles, the thin wood in +his hand. + +“Er--ah!--thank you very much,” he stammered. “Er--this picture +here--what price is it?” He indicated the little red sketch. + +“Oh, that’s not for sale,” replied the man. “It’s just a bit an artist +brought in to show me. He’s painting quite a big picture. It’s for the +Salon, I believe.” + +“Oh,” murmured George, “not for the Academy?” He felt disappointed he +couldn’t buy the sketch, and if the picture was going to Paris he would +never see it again. + +The dealer shook his head doubtfully. “No. I think not. Colour’s a bit +too warm for England, I should say.” + +The door bell sprang at the moment, and the dealer looked round a pile +of frames into the front shop. + +“Why, here is Mr. Brookes himself!” he exclaimed. And George saw a tall +slight young man with the artist’s slouch-hat and a flowing tie come +in and nod to the shopman. “There’s a gentleman here admiring your +picture,” the latter said, and George approached him eagerly. + +“I do indeed,” he said. “It’s a wonderful picture. I’m sorry I won’t +ever see the big one.” + +The artist flushed with pleasure. “You can come and see it now, if you +like,” he said in a pleased tone. “My shanty’s only a stone’s throw +from here; two tubes of purple madder, please, Smith, and chalk them +up, will you? I haven’t a cent on me.” + +George’s heart beat. A visit to a real studio with an artist to see +this glorious red picture! He accepted at once. What a comfort that +Maria had always been out to tea lately and there was no need for him +to hurry back. + +When the artist had got his paints and George had paid for his +purchase, they left the shop together and walked to the studio. + +It was in a side street, and you went down a long slope from the +pavement to a wooden door which the artist opened with his latchkey, +and George walked through a small passage into a great, untidy, +comfortable room that, with its hint of gaiety and dissolute romance, +delighted him. There were deep chairs everywhere, a huge dais in one +corner all draped in gorgeous red, a stove in the centre glowing hot, +a deep cushioned semi-circular lounge half round it. One corner of the +room was walled off with voluminous blue curtains to form the artist’s +bedroom. The whole end of the room farthest from this was window, +but it only looked into a quiet green garden with high walls round +affording complete seclusion. There was a delightful litter of pictures +all about, a mass of flowers by the sunny window, an aviary of singing +birds, soft Turkey rugs on the floor, and the perfume of scented +cigarettes in the air. George liked it. He liked it much better than +the stiff drawing room with the starched white curtains and high hard +chairs of Meadow View. + +The artist drew forward two big chairs and then, going to the dais +pulled on a cord. The curtains flew apart and there was the picture! +Then he threw himself into one of the chairs while George took the +other, and the two men gazed at the canvas in silence. + +“Wonderful woman she is,” remarked the artist after a minute between +the puffs of his cigarette. “Bit of a mystery. Calls herself Mrs. +Brown, but don’t believe that’s her real name. Can’t make out what +she’s doing it for: whether it’s the money or for the fun of it; little +of both, perhaps. She’s not a regular model evidently, but she’s one of +the best I ever had. Good figure, isn’t it?” + +“Oh, perfect, perfect!” replied George rapturously. He couldn’t take +his eyes off the picture. He sat before it spellbound, clasping his +British umbrella in both hands as it stood between his British knees +gazing at the vivid, barbaric riot of beautiful colour and suggestion +that appealed so to his romantic un-British heart. “What’s her face +like?” + +“Oh, nothing very much. Not a bad little face when she smiles and gets +some colour; but you see I didn’t want the face for that picture.” + +“No, quite so, quite so,” assented George. + +“Larky woman, I should think,” went on the artist. “Married to a sort +of dull brute of a husband--doesn’t care about her; leaves her alone +all day.” + +“Pig!” grunted George indignantly. “Can you imagine a man having a +woman like that and neglecting her?” + +The artist laughed. + +“Well, marriage is a killing atmosphere. I don’t know what she may be +at home, she’s amusing enough when she comes in here.” + +“What do you know about her? Where did you meet her?” + +“The funny part is I don’t know anything. She just walked in here one +afternoon: said she was bored to death and had no romance or fun +in her life, and no money of her own to spend. Said she’d sit as a +model if I’d have her. I wasn’t much struck at first: she was rather +badly dressed, you know; but we talked a little bit and I got rather +interested. I’d had the idea for this picture for a long time, I hadn’t +a model, and she was cheap and very willing to learn and be civil, +which all of them are not, and so there it was. She’s been coming to me +for quite a time now, and it’s good, the picture, isn’t it? I’m hoping +it’ll make a big hit.” + +George nodded. He was grasping his umbrella feverishly, his hands +rolling and unrolling the silk flaps nervously. He would do it, he +would. He’d have this one bit of romance in his life to cherish and +look back upon. + +He turned to the insouciant artist who, with his head tilted back and +the cigarette in his teeth and his leg hanging over one arm of the +chair, was contemplating his work with satisfaction through half-closed +eyes. + +“I think I heard you say in that shop you were a little pressed for +ready money,” he said in his rather stiff way. + +The artist laughed. “Dead broke, my dear sir, that’s what I am! Why? +Are you thinking of making me an offer for the picture?” + +George leant nearer him. + +“The picture’s good,” he said hoarsely, for his throat felt dry, “but +it’s the woman I want. Do you want to make twenty pounds? Well, here’s +your chance. Get her for me. Get her here. Lend me the studio for a +few hours. Fix up those red curtains, have it just like the picture, +red lights, red fire, red roses, red everything. Get her posing just +like that, mind, just like that; then you clear out and leave us alone.” + +The artist was sitting bolt upright now staring at Mr. George Morris as +if he could not believe his eyes or his ears, as indeed he could not. +Was this really the very respectable old party he had met in the shop? +His eyes were glowing, his face flushed. He looked almost young and +handsome. What an astounding proposition from such an orthodox-looking +old Briton! Still, twenty pounds.... + +“But I don’t suppose for one minute she’d consent,” he said after an +astonished pause of reflection. + +George made an angry movement of impatience. + +“Unless you muddle things,” he said, “she won’t know anything about it. +You won’t ask her anything.” + +“But I don’t see....” began the other. + +“Look here. You get the lady to come to an ordinary sitting; just as +usual. You fix up everything, just as it is there, as you always do, I +suppose. I’m waiting behind those curtains there. Then you get her to +pose just like that: you step back to get something, brush or what-not. +You slip behind the curtains and then clear out of the studio and I am +left in your place. What’s to prevent you doing that?” + +“Nothing. Only it seems rather a bad trick for me to play her and she +may disappoint you, she may....” + +“Never mind,” returned George calmly now. “If I muddle my own affairs +when you leave us that’s my business; nothing to do with you. You get +your twenty all the same.” + +“When?” asked the artist dubiously. + +“When I look through those curtains,” returned George intimating the +artist’s walled-off bedroom behind them, “and see this picture in life. +When you pass me to go out I’ll slip the notes into your hand.” + +Mr. James Brookes looked down on the floor in silent thought. He didn’t +like the idea at all. Still, he was very hard up and perhaps his model +would not mind. She seemed very good natured. He could pass it off as a +practical joke. + +“I don’t half like it,” he said after a minute. “Still, I’ll do it.” + +“When?” + +“Day after to-morrow she’s coming--four to six. You’d better be here by +three-thirty, so there’s no chance of her seeing you come in.” + +George got up with a strange fire of joy in his heart. Here was +romance, intrigue, adventure, coming into his life at last! + +He cast his eyes round the studio with its inviting air of ease, its +bright colours, its luxury, which seemed to belie, or was it the cause +of its owner’s poverty? + +“I envy you your life,” he said, buttoning up his coat and gazing at +the innumerable portraits of brunettes and blondes on the studio walls. +“There must be so much beauty, poetry, colour in it, novelty, change.” +And he sighed, thinking of his eighteen years at Meadow View with Maria. + +“Oh, I don’t know,” returned the artist. “One gets sick of it, you +know; so many women and all jealous and squabbling with one another. +One longs sometimes for a home and a little peace and quietness.” + +“What a pity we can’t change places,” mused George as he walked home +thinking over the artist’s words. Then he fell to wondering what the +model’s face would be like. “A nice little face when she smiles and +gets some colour,” the artist had said, and it rather took his fancy. +Ruby! It was a sweet name! And she, like himself, was sighing for +romance in her life, was evidently just as lonely and unappreciated as +he was. By the time he got back to Mervyn Road, his face had assumed +its usual chastened expression. + +Maria seemed rather more dull and sour than usual. + +“Why didn’t you come back to tea?” she enquired. + +George flushed. + +“You have been out so often to tea lately,” he said. + +“Well, I wasn’t to-day,” she snapped. “You might let me know when +you’re not coming home till dinner.” + +“I’ll be at the office late, I know, the day after to-morrow,” replied +George, trying to speak naturally, but getting redder and redder. + +“All right,” returned Maria, “I’m glad to know it. I’ll go and have tea +with Aunt Emma.” + +“Do, my dear, and I’ll get back in time for dinner.” + +“I should hope so,” rejoined Maria. + +George was amiability itself that evening. The glow of the picture had +got into his heart and warmed it, and that night he could not sleep for +thinking of it. What might not this adventure lead up to? He had heard +of men who had cosy little flats, the existence of which was unknown +to their lawful wives. He had always thought this very wrong, but now +he began to feel sympathy with those men. Perhaps, like himself they +had dull, unsympathetic wives; perhaps they, too, were yearning after +colour in their lives. A little flat and all furnished in red, which +could be kept very warm so that its occupant could wear those nice +pink and blue things he saw in the windows of the Burlington Arcade, +and dispense with woolly jackets. Silk stockings, too! He had often +thought it would be nice to have someone to take those neat boxes of +silk stockings home to that he saw on the counter of men’s shops when +he went to buy his ties. He had never thought of Maria. Silk stockings +didn’t go with Meadow View--they went with little flats. Of course, it +might be rather expensive, but then, why should he not spend something +on his own amusements? He was very liberal with Maria. She was always +buying new hats. Now last year, she had had--how many? There was +the hat with the green feathers, and--er--er the hat with the green +feathers, and--and--the hat with the green feathers. Well, there, he +couldn’t think of any other hat, so he supposed she had had only one +last year, and finally, trying to find another hat for Maria, he fell +asleep. + + * * * * * + +The great day came and with a beating heart, Mr. George Morris left +his office early and hurried to the studio, arriving there some +minutes before the appointed time. The artist let him in himself, and +George thought the studio looked more attractive than ever. The sun +was streaming through the lowered red blinds, the stove was burning +brightly, there were flowers on the many little tables and a heavy +fragrance from burning pastilles in the air. He was quite sorry to have +to go into the dark recesses of the bedroom in the corner, but his host +insisted on it and gave him a chair well back against the wall away +from the curtain. He gave him a paper, but as it was too dark to read +there with any comfort and he was strictly enjoined not to make the +faintest noise, so that he could not turn its pages, it was obvious the +paper was not much use to him. And how could anyone read in that state +of high-strung expectation in which Mr. George Morris now found himself? + +After sitting there alone in the obscurity for what seemed an +interminable time, he heard a ring at the main door and the artist +going out to answer it. They seemed to linger a long time at the door +and he thought he heard some ripples of laughter that set all his +pulses beating. Then he heard the studio door open and evidently two +persons entering. But he was disappointed that he could not hear their +conversation, hardly their voices through the muffling folds of the +heavy curtains. He was afraid to leave his seat and approach nearer +the curtains for fear lest some noise of his movement might betray +him. The model’s ears might be sharper than his own. There was quite a +long pause of silence, and he wondered what they were doing. Perhaps +the model was undressing. Then he heard the moving of furniture and +supposed the scene was being arranged. The heavy bed with its elaborate +red drapery that figured in the picture had to be pushed to its right +position on the dais. He sat impatiently on his chair, the notes all +ready in his hand to be given to the artist in that blissful moment +when he should pass by him on his way out, leaving him alone with the +adorable model. + +At last his host’s light step approached the other side of the +curtains, a hand was laid on them, and he heard his voice say: “I’ll +just fetch that tube,” and then the curtains were pulled apart. + +Morris sprang to his feet and stood spellbound. There was the lovely +picture in the life, the warm interior, the gorgeous bed, the crimson +lights and in the centre, the feminine figure of lovely whiteness with +the flowing hair in the pose of just getting into bed. + +The artist passed swiftly by him, pulled the notes out of George’s +nerveless hand as he stood there staring, then passed on noiselessly +to the door which he closed behind him with the faintest click. +Faint though it was, it came to George’s ears and roused him. He was +alone--the room, the scene, the model was his! With outstretched arm he +rushed forward to clasp this beauty, this dream, this delight to him. +He reached the dais. His arms were almost round her lovely shoulders +when the model turned. + +A shriek rang through the studio: “_George!_” + +“_Maria!_” + + + + + A NOVEL ELOPEMENT + + +The train puffed its way along its line through one of the prettiest +parts of Kent and carried among its many passengers a bridal couple +that had that morning been married and were now _en route_ for +their honeymoon. + +Three weeks ago they had never seen each other, these two, who now +at the respective ages of eighteen and twenty-five, had taken their +solemn oath to remain together till Death. They had met at a dance. He +had been in the mood to marry somebody; she was already rather tired +of refusing offers and accepted his for a change. Their engagement +had been a joyous whirl, and both were very happy now and were quite +convinced that their choice was excellent. Eva thought Eric was so +clever and had such a wonderful mind and character because he always +agreed with her in conversation. Eric was so occupied with gazing into +her blue eyes when he answered her searching questions, that he had +not the remotest idea what it was he agreed to. If she said she loved +dogs he said he thought there was nothing so jolly and faithful; if +she said women should have votes, he said it would be a shame if they +hadn’t. If she said she adored music, he said his happiest hours were +passed listening to her playing; if she said vivisection was a blot on +our civilization, he said it was a beastly, unnatural practice and +ought to be stopped. If she said the traffic in old horses should be +abolished he told her his idea had always been to found a home where +old horses could end their days in peace. Once, when he trod on the +tail of her mother’s cat, he had seemed, to her surprise, a little +callous about it. She had reproached him. The cat had been picked up +immediately by him, fondled on his knee and given a saucer of milk by +way of consolation. + +Eva simply glowed with joy and love after such conversations and +incidents, and when her mother pointed out that she knew very little of +the man and that the engagement was very short, she answered: + +“It doesn’t matter, we are so alike and take the same view of +everything. We are sure to be happy.” + +She honestly thought she saw him in his words. All she saw was what +he let her see--the reflection of her own warm-hearted, clear-headed +self. She had really thought out the subjects on which she formed her +well-founded opinions. When she offered these to him, as he never +thought out anything and had no opinions, he accepted hers just as +lightly and easily as he would have accepted the contrary ones, if +offered! + +It is always very difficult for the deep, strong nature of a woman +to realise the facile worthlessness of a man’s. She was happy as she +sat in the corner of the carriage, her hand tucked into his. She was +sure--or _nearly_ sure--that she had found a good, great man. +He was quite sure he had found a girl with a pretty face and nice +figure--these were clear to the eye, no bother of thinking them out--so +both young people were blissfully content and satisfied. + +Suddenly the easy motion of the train stopped. A jar and a jerk, then +it drew up motionless where the line ran through a pretty wood. Eric +sprang up and put his head out of the window. It was autumn, the +evening chill, and dusk. He could not see ahead--only that they were +not stopping at any station. Presently the guard came along by the side +of the train: + +“There’s an obstruction on the line, sir, on ahead! Part of a tunnel +fallen in. It will take some clearing away, too. We can’t get on +to-night.” + +Most of the other passengers were looking out and listening to his +discouraging accents. Their eyes wandered over the wood in which the +train was pulled up. It stood golden in autumn leaf, silent and chill. +It seemed unresponsive, and to offer no solution of their difficulties. +Then plans began to be made and eagerly discussed. Some of the +passengers were in favor of returning to the last station and stopping +there the night, being somewhat reluctantly assured by the guard they +could “get on in the morning.” + +Eric withdrew his head and sat down by Eva. + +“What would you like to do, darling?” + +Eva was gazing into the mystery of the shadowy wood. + +“Could we camp there?” she said. “Under that golden canopy, it’s very +lovely!” + +Eric’s face lengthened. + +“Hardly, dear, I think. It’s so damp and----” + +“There is a lovely full moon rising behind the trees,” she answered. + +Eric was silent. The wood did not appeal to him, nor the rising moon. +Neither did the “Bull and Cow” which was the station inn and the only +one they had seen from the last station as they passed. + +In the pause that ensued the guard entered the carriage and approached +the young couple confidentially. + +“We’ve decided to make a run back, sir, from here; but if I may make +a suggestion, there’s a nice farmhouse not a stone’s throw from here +where you’d be most comfortable. I know the party as keeps it would put +you up for the night and give you a good supper.” + +Eva looked up brightly. + +“A farmhouse? Is it a pretty one?” + +“Well, I couldn’t say as it’s so very pretty,” returned the guard +doubtfully, “but there’s good ale to be had and fowls and pork and nice +rooms, too, what they let in the summer.” + +Eric became decisive. + +“I think, darling, that’s really the best we can do, and if it’s quite +near we can get our light luggage carried over.” + +A man was found by the guard. They gathered their wraps and light cases +together. In a few moments they were standing on the damp soil by the +side of the train, listening to the directions he was giving for the +route. + +It did not sound so very near: + +“You keeps away from the wood and you goes up the hill to the top and +then down on the other side till you comes to the bridge, and don’t +cross the bridge, but keep along by the stream till you get to a stile, +and you cross the stile and go through two fields and then there’s a +bit of a wood and you go through the wood and then you comes out on a +bit of a slope and the farm’s just facing you.” + +“But that’s a long way,” expostulated Eric. Eva was surprised at his +cross tone. She had never heard it before. + +“It will be a lovely walk on this moonlight night,” she volunteered. + +“It’s not more’n fifteen minutes or ’arf-an-hour’s walk,” said the +guard in an aggrieved tone, “and you can’t miss it, and the ale’s good.” + +Eric tipped him. The man shouldered the cases and they started. They +followed their instructions to keep away from the wood and took a +little narrow path that wound up to the top of the hill. The moon was +just peeping over its brow and made long shadows fall from the trees +that stood here and there. The air was damp and cool and full of the +scent of late roses and wet leaves. + +To the girl it was all pure enjoyment, only clouded a little by the +fact that Eric seemed so put out. They walked side by side in silence. +The man trudged along behind them, silent also. Up and up till the +ridge was reached, then down and down on the other side. Eva walked +with springing steps admiring the calm beauty of it all, drawing +pleasure from each little detail of star in the sky or gleam of +moonlight on the brook. She hazarded a few enthusiastic remarks, but +Eric did not seem to hear them, and there was silence until the second +field beyond the stile was reached. Then through the quiet air came +suddenly to them a strange sound--a low, hollow sound of misery. Eva +stopped: + +“What is that sound, Eric?” + +“Dog barking, I should think,” he answered shortly. + +“I never heard a dog bark like that before; it has an awful, +extraordinary sound.” + +“Yes, because the beast has barked himself hoarse, I should think, +that’s all.” + +Eva stood listening. + +“Yes, I suppose it is hoarse as you say, but what a terrible sound.” + +It was a terrible lamenting cry of a soul in misery that came to them +wailing over the wood and the stream. + +“Please come along,” Eric said as she stood there with dilating eyes. +“We don’t want to spend the night here.” + +Eva walked on. The sound of the barking, if barking it could be called, +becoming clearer and nearer as they advanced. They were in the wood +now, and the moonlight falling through the trees made beautiful +patterns and traceries on the moss-grown path, but Eva now had no eyes +for it. She was listening to that long-drawn wail of pain that came +fitfully through the silver air. + +“But aren’t you sorry for it?” she asked. + +“I don’t know. It’s barked itself into that condition, I expect. I +suppose it’s one of the farm dogs. I hope the brute won’t go on like +that all night.” + +Eva was silent. It was not quite what she expected Eric to say, but she +made no comment. + +They were through the wood, on the slope, and there was the farmhouse +at last facing them on the slope opposite. + +It looked comfortable enough and cheery; well-built and solid with a +warm blaze of light in its lower windows. A large farmyard was close +at its side; an orchard on the other side. From behind the house the +hollow, melancholy barking continued, belying the aspect of peace and +rest. + +At the door of the farmhouse they received a warm welcome. It was +thrown open by the stout, good-tempered looking woman herself, while +her husband and son, burly figures in their rough farm clothes, lounged +up to the threshold, hands in pockets, to stare at the strangers. +Behind them at the end of the passage or hall a door stood open to +warmth and lights and a table laid for supper. + +Farmer Bates and his wife let rooms in the summer, so they knew +the ways of the rich and those who were not farmers. There was no +difficulty. They could have a nice room, they could have hot water, +they could have baths and they could have early tea in the morning; +they could have roast chicken and soup and apple tart for supper. + +Eric cheered up and Eva saw the expression she was familiar with come +back to his face. The “engagement expression” as she now christened +it in her mind. It was the only one she had seen for those three +weeks--the only one she knew--but she saw now his face had others. + +She was asked to go in and sit by the fire, and did so while the +farmer’s young, handsome son took the place opposite. Eric was +arranging terms with the woman and seeing their luggage carried +upstairs. + +The young farmer started a conversation as he was accustomed to do +with the summer visitors. Eva was preoccupied; she wanted to ask about +the dog, but she hesitated as to how best to approach the subject, and +before she had decided, the others came back into the room. + +The supper was quite a merry meal for all except herself. It was all +quiet outside now, but in spite of the talk going on round her, her +ears were only listening for that call from without. Eric grew quite +jovial; he approved the farmer’s ale and drank heartily. The farming +family were pleased at their guests’ appreciation, and the prospect of +the good pay coming in. Bridegrooms were always generous. Suddenly, +across the laughter and the talk, it came again; that awful wail of +hopeless misery. The hosts did not appear to hear it, but Eva’s face +blanched, and a look of annoyance flashed across Eric’s handsome +countenance. + +Eva turned to the young man next her: + +“Why has that dog got such a peculiar bark?” she asked. + +“Because he’s going mad, I think,” he answered. “We’re going to shoot +him in the morning.” + +The young farmer was quite surprised by the look of distress that come +to the girl’s face. + +“Oh, but why?” she exclaimed. “I think from his bark he wants water. +Let me take him some.” + +The man laughed: + +“You take him water? Why you couldn’t get near him. He’s so savage he’d +eat you alive.” + +“What has made him so savage?” + +“Well, we’ve kept him on the chain for seven years, and it’s sent him +crazy, I think,” he answered indifferently. “We haven’t been able to +get near him for years; we just throw him his food and push the water +to him with a pole.” + +“Do you mean you’ve kept him chained up and never let him free once, +never given him any exercise for seven years?” + +“Oh, he gets exercise enough dancing about at the end of that chain and +howling. We let him howl in the winter for we don’t notice him, and +it’s too much trouble to go out and bash him, but in the summer when +the visitors are here we thrash him when he barks, for they don’t like +it, and if it annoys you I’ll soon settle him now.” + +And before she realised what he was going to do, he rose from his +place, strode up to where some huge horsewhips were ranged against the +wall, and then with one in his hand, went to the door. The burly farmer +turned in his chair. + +“That’s right, Steve, you go and give him a good hiding. Teach him to +behave when we have ladies here.” + +The son would have gone out, but Eva had sprung up and she put herself +between him and the door. + +“Pray don’t,” she said. “It does distress me to hear him, but I +wouldn’t have him beaten for anything.” + +The young farmer looked down into her blanched face and dilated eyes. +Their beauty conquered him. + +“As you like,” he said rather sullenly, and hung the whip up again on +the wall. + +The farmer himself laughed. + +“Now then, missis,” he called banteringly. “You’ve no call to +interfere. If he wants to beat our dog, why shouldn’t we?” + +“Don’t be foolish, Eva. Come and sit down,” Eric said. His tone was +full of annoyance. + +She came back to the table and sat down facing the farmer. She was +white and trembling. + +“It’s not your dog,” she said steadily. + +The farmer’s red face turned purple. + +“Not our dog, eh! Not our dog! And ’oos dog is it, then, I should like +to know?” + +“It’s God’s dog,” the girl replied unflinchingly. + +She had a beautiful voice, very soft and sweet in tone, but full of +power. It vibrated through the room now, charged with the intensity of +her feelings and held her listeners: + +“All animals are His. He created them. They are not ours. They are only +lent to us in trust, and it is _my_ business to interfere, as it +is everybody’s business to interfere when they are ill-treated and +mis-used.” + +No one spoke for a moment. The farmer sat back, open-mouthed. + +“’Pon my word,” he stuttered after a minute. “’Pon my word,” and could +get no further. + +They all turned instinctively to Eric to see what view he would take, +and Eva, too, looked at him appealingly. Surely he would take her side +against the others! + +“Eric?” she said questioningly. He coloured hotly. He was annoyed at +her making a scene like this about nothing. + +“Don’t be stupid, Eva,” he said shortly. “Go on with your supper. Of +course Bates has a right to do as he thinks best. Personally, I think +it would be a good thing if he did give the brute a thrashing and +stopped his howling.” + +“Eric!” she exclaimed again, but this time her tone was one of sheer +amazement and bewilderment, and sitting in her place she stared across +at him as if he were some new strange monster suddenly presented to her +eyes. And indeed, this was the fact. She saw, for the first time, the +real Eric. This was not the man she had married this morning, surely? +This was not the man whose eyes had been wont to fill with sympathetic +tears whenever she had wept. A feeling of extreme loneliness came over +her. He was one in spirit with these coarse-faced, brutal farmers, who +had tortured their four-footed servant for seven years and thrashed him +when he had cried to them for help. + +She was alone amongst them all. + +She had no husband. That man opposite her, who had just let fall those +words, was not the one she had loved and adored and married. By his +speech he seemed to have let loose an icy river which was flowing now +wide and deep as the Polar sea between them. + +“Don’t sit staring at me,” Eric said impatiently. “Go on with your +supper, for Heaven’s sake.” + +Eva’s lips set. She pushed her plate from her and rose. + +“Thank you, I have finished,” she merely said, but there was such a +cutting disdain in her voice, such a thin, frosty edge to her tone, +that it seemed to those at the table a shower of ice had fallen +suddenly upon them. She stood for a moment looking down on the circle, +at the flushed, bloated faces, at the burly lounging forms of these +men who could sit there stuffing themselves to their protruding eyes; +well-warmed, well-fed, well-clothed, and knowing that their faithful +friend and devoted defender was stretched on the cold stones a few feet +away, dying in the agonies of thirst and despair. + +She turned and left the room before anyone moved or spoke, and went +upstairs to the bedroom. + +She opened the door. A fire had been lighted in the grate, and its +cheerful red light was playing all over the room. The blinds were +pulled down, and thick red curtains drawn across the windows. On the +neat dressing-table stood a vase full of dried lavender. The bed in the +corner with snowy sheets and counterpane invited to repose. Another +little bed, draped in pink dimity, stood near the window. + +It was a room in which any weary traveller would have liked to rest. + +Eva noticed nothing. She shut the door behind her, then walked over to +the window, pulled aside the curtains and let the spring blind fly up +with a snap. Then she looked out, and there was the dog! Facing her +across a large stone paved yard, fully illuminated by the brilliant +moonlight so that she could see every detail. At the extreme end of +his chain, his long-nailed paws on the stone flags, the wild-eyed, +dishevelled looking creature stood, gazing towards the house where his +tormentors lived. The girl’s quick eyes took in his gaunt and bony +frame, the rough hair that stood upright down his spine, the open jaw +with white foam hanging from it, the neck from which all the hair was +gone, rubbed away in his ceaseless efforts to free himself from his +chain. Near him were a few bones and untouched scraps. Just out of his +reach, however he might strain, was an overturned earthenware saucer. +It looked dry, as if it had not contained water for many days. + +So little like a dog the creature looked, she could not determine to +what breed it belonged, but it seemed to have been something between +a mastiff and a wolfhound. Now it was just a huge, wasted wreck, +glaring-eyed, demented, that man had made. + +And she looked out at it and pitied it and loved it with that boundless +love and sympathy for all suffering things, that is the best part of +the female nature. + +So he had stood in that stone-paved yard, week in week out for seven +years--day after day, night after night, of burning sun and intolerable +heat, or icy cold and cutting winds. No shelter, not even a kennel, not +even a trace of straw. All round him was a ring of shining white on the +grey flags which his scratching feet had made in his hopeless efforts +to be free; and the physical sufferings were the least of what he had +borne. The worst had been the awful monotony of those long, dreary +days without hope, without aim or occupation: that emptiness and that +sameness that preys on an animal’s brain just as much as on a man’s. + +Chained up in his youthful days, with all the wild longings for the +twenty-mile run, the smell of the wildwoods, the finding of mates, +fermenting in his blood, with his great canine heart full of that +wonderful enthusiastic worship of man that Nature has planted there, +longing for love and companionship, for the touch of a kind hand on +his head, he had watched the homestead with wistful, hungering eyes. +And because, when people approached him, he had tugged so frantically +at his chain and pawed the air to show his joy and longing to follow +them, he had been thought savage, and when he had cried out in his +loneliness, he had been beaten into quietude; but his agony and his +sorrow, and his wonder at it all was so great that even those cruel +thrashings had not silenced him. + +And now, after seven years of this, he was to be shot to-morrow! The +girl, looking out at him, understood all he had gone through, and +a fierce resentment against his tormentors rose and swelled within +her like a great wave. Somehow, she would save him, she determined, +and give him a little happiness before he died; give him that love +and sympathy his heart had been craving for all those years. She had +forgotten herself, forgotten it was her wedding evening--a time so +passionately anticipated during her engagement. As for Eric, he seemed +to have disappeared from her. Somewhere between the Church and the +farmhouse the Eric she loved had vanished. How could she reach that +poor, condemned prisoner? If she went down now to the farmhouse door +she would be heard unfastening it, even if she could move those solid +bars. If she were seen in the yard she would certainly be followed and +prevented from getting near the dog. No one else could be persuaded to +release him. Everyone was afraid of those gleaming teeth and blood-shot +eyes. She would only probably succeed in getting him shot that night +instead of to-morrow. And how would they shoot him? Not with one +merciful bullet sent direct to the brain; but probably aiming from a +distance, they might shoot and wound him a dozen times and then perhaps +leave him dying and not dead. + +They would certainly kill him in the same clumsy, misunderstanding way +they had treated him while alive. Merely to release him in his present +condition, wild-looking and supposed to be mad, would be no kindness. +If he dashed away he would soon be followed, perhaps stoned by the +screaming rabble of the village. No, she must not only release him, she +must take him away and with her. He was her dog now. No one wanted him. +He was going to be shot. Well, she would not have that. She would take +him. Then suddenly she remembered Eric. He would certainly object! and +she was married. She had to consult him. + +She turned from the window in a sudden panic--she was a prisoner, too. +And her gaoler was of the stamp of the men downstairs. How awful this +was! She had never meant to marry such a man. Had he shown himself +before the ceremony as he had at the supper here, she would never have +married him. Her hands turned cold, and her knees shook. She sank down +in a chair by the fire. She had never realized the prison side of +marriage. + +Union with the twin soul she had thought she had found in Eric had not +suggested it. But now she saw how the case was. Had she been travelling +alone she could have gone to the farmer and paid him his own price for +the dog and taken him away with her, openly. It would have been quite +simple. But now she knew instinctively Eric would not let her do this +and as he was against her as well as all those downstairs, the dog +would probably be shot before her eyes and she would be powerless to +prevent it because she had given up her single freedom of action, given +up the right over her own conduct. And to that man! It was horrible. +Her nails sank into her clenched hands. In that moment she longed to +be free of that room, free of her marriage as the dog outside longed +to be free of his chain. The sex passion is infinitely curious in its +nature. Though in some ways so strong, so resistless, yet in others it +is so frail a plant that the lightest wind may sweep it away. Eva had +given to Eric not only love and admiration, but also the natural joyous +passion of awakened girlhood. Now all these were equally dead. She sat +there, numb and cold with only one desire--to save the dog and escape. + +As she sat trying to think out some plan of action, the door opened +and Eric came in. The supper had done him good; his bad temper was +forgotten. He came in smiling, and she saw again the old Eric with the +“engagement expression.” Suddenly it occurred to her she could win her +way by blandishment however her feelings might have changed. For the +dog’s sake she must dissemble and act. + +She went up to him with arms outstretched. + +“Oh, Eric darling, I am so glad you have come. Do do me a favor, and +I’ll simply adore you. Do let us buy that poor dog and take him away +with us and make up to him for all he has suffered.” + +The smile died away from the man’s face. He unclasped her arms from his +neck. + +“But, my dear child, he’s mad. You can’t take a mad dog about with you. +His own people are afraid to go near him.” + +“I should think they would be after the way they have treated him,” she +answered with burning indignation. “But _I’m_ not afraid of him. +He is not mad. He is only crazy with loneliness and thirst. Let me go +down and release him, and I’ll be responsible for him.” + +Eric stared at her in amazement and with a growing anger fed by +jealousy and wounded vanity. + +A man’s nerves and state of general self-control are not at their best +on such an occasion as this, and in his unbalanced condition it seemed +intolerable to him that his bride should not be wholly occupied with +himself but should be worrying over a miserable brute of a dog. It did +not occur to him that she was only now displaying those qualities that +had so much attracted him from the first--that soft, warm heart, that +all-embracing love and sympathy that coupled with her physical beauty +had made him decide to marry her out of all the women he might have +chosen. It did not occur to him either what a priceless possession +of adoring love he might have gained for all the rest of his life by +yielding to her then and conquering himself; nor how, for ever he would +kill his own future by opposition. He was simply intensely angry, +jealous and annoyed and blinded by hurt vanity and selfish passion. + +“It’s our _duty_ to do something,” she urged. “Come and look at +him,” and she drew him, reluctant, to the window. + +The dog stood in the same position at the end of the hateful chain! his +eyes glaring, his mouth open, his body shivering. The man and woman +looked out at him together. The woman’s eyes saw a fellow creature’s +suffering soul, the man saw--a mad dog. + +“It’s really nothing whatever to do with us,” he expostulated, “it’s +not our business. The people who own him must know how to manage him. +Why do you bother yourself about it!” + +Eva turned and gazed at him with sheer surprise. + +“But Eric, we couldn’t possibly enjoy ourselves and sleep comfortably +up here knowing he is there in such misery!” + +“Of course, we could, if you were not so silly about it,” he answered. + +Eva was silent. Power to reply seemed taken away from her in face of +this colossal adamantine hardness. She began to realise that this man +she had married was not at all the exceptional individual she had +imagined, but just the ordinary usual human being, not actively cruel, +but absolutely indifferent and callous, not caring about anything +except the satisfaction of his senses and the comfort of his own body. + +“Well, if you could, I couldn’t,” she said after a moment. “Let me go +down and unchain him and tell the people I’ll buy him. If you don’t +want him with us, I’ll send him to my sister to keep for me.” + +“To attempt to unchain a dog in that condition is going to your death,” +he said shortly, keeping control over himself as well as he could. + +“I am sure it’s not so, but even if it were and I feel it’s my duty, +I ought to do it. Why, Eric, how many times in the War did you not go +forward to almost certain death just because it was your duty?” + +Eric coloured furiously. + +“That may be, but I’m not going to risk my life now to free a mad dog.” + +“I’m not asking you to. I want to free him.” + +“And my answer is, you shan’t do anything so damnably foolish.” Swept +by a sudden whirl of anger that was utterly beyond him to control, he +strode across the room, locked the door, tore out the key and flung it +with all his force through the window. It fell tinkling on the stone +flags of the yard. + +“Now that ends all this damned nonsense,” he said violently, and drew +her roughly away from the window which he closed, and pulled the +curtain across. + +The girl stood as if turned into stone. As the key fell, a cry escaped +her. A cry so bitter with hate and loathing that he might well have +shuddered if he had noted it. But he did not. He did not realise it was +the death-cry of the last shred of love or feeling of allegiance to +him that was left in her heart. + +The explosion of rage had helped Eric to become normal again. Having +now secured, as he supposed, beyond all possibility of doubt, his own +way, he became calmer. The brain-storm passed. He came up to where she +stood, mute and motionless by the hearth. + +“Darling,” he said, attempting to draw her into his arms, “don’t be +stupid and spoil all our pleasure. Have you forgotten how we looked +forward to being like this alone together?” + +She wrenched herself away from him, and there was such a fury of +resentment in her eyes that even he fell back from her with a confused +sense of having made some fatal error. Women were intended by Nature to +rule the world, not men, and that is why any attempt to coerce a woman +by man generally fails. + +“Don’t touch me,” she said in a voice low and sharp with the intensity +of her anger. “You shall never touch me again.” + +“You seem to forget you’re my wife,” he said hotly. + +“If I am fifty thousand times your wife I will never give myself to +you. You can kill me first.” + +Eric stepped back and regarded her with dismay. He was face to face now +with a force which he could only dimly comprehend. But as the storm +had passed from his brain, it had left his intellect fairly clear, and +he began to see things were getting serious. Somehow he was making a +mess of it. Mechanically he turned away, fumbling in his pocket for his +cigarette case. He drew out a cigarette, lighted it and began to smoke. +What would be best to do, he wondered. Perhaps, if he said nothing +she would calm down again. He rather wished he had not been so hasty. +He wished he had put the key in his pocket instead of throwing it out +of the window. There was no getting out of the room now for either of +them. He regretted he had not been wiser and temporised more. + +Presently he threw himself into a chair, and watched her furtively. Her +eyes were turned away towards the fire. She stood like a thing turned +into stone. + +“What are we going to do, then?” he said, half banteringly, when the +silence became unbearable. “Sit up all night?” + +“As you please,” the girl replied, without turning her head. He +wondered what she was thinking about, and debated feverishly with +himself what he should do or say. He would have been astonished if he +could have known her thoughts. He had not the faintest conception of +the character and the will he was dealing with. + +The girl stood there,--Herself, sunk utterly in her thought. How to +gain her end and carry out the dog’s deliverance was the only thing +that occupied her. Eric’s last words had suddenly flashed a light into +her brain. For a moment, when the key had whizzed by her and clinked +on the stones without, hope had died in her. It seemed so impossible +then to ever reach the poor chained one down there in time, but now his +words, “sit up all night” showed her suddenly the contrary proposition. +If Eric were once asleep and she, alone awake in the room, she could +effect her escape from it by the window. Her heart gave a suffocating +leap upward as the whole plan unrolled itself like a map before her +mental vision. Light and agile as a cat, it would be possible for +her to swing herself down by knotted sheets to the yard, loose the +prisoner, and with him run through the moon-lighted country, back to +that station down the line their train had passed, and catch the first +one back to London. It was all most dangerous and difficult, most open +to failure, still it was a _possible_ plan--if Eric were asleep. + +And with an infinite sense of horror and loathing, she realised the +best and perhaps the only way to ensure his sleep was to reverse all +she had said, to humiliate herself, to act a part, to give herself to +him--and let him sleep. She saw his plan now was to sit up and smoke +waiting and hoping she would change her mind. Time was passing, and +each silver minute of the night brought the prisoner outside nearer to +his doom. + +She suddenly bent her head down on the mantelpiece. Nothing she would +hate so much now as the caress of this man in whose caresses she had +once so rejoiced! These moments she had so looked forward to, how +horrible, how terrible they were now! His embrace! Surely with that +fury of resentment in her heart, she would suffocate in it! But the +dog had to be saved, and to accomplish that she would go through any +suffering, any degradation. She drew herself together with a supreme +effort of will, and turned to the man in the chair. + +“Eric, I am so sorry I spoke as I did. Let’s never mind about anything. +Let’s forget it. Kiss me.” + +He had sprung to his feet at her first word. She was beside him now, +looking up at him with her glorious eyes full of light and her face +glowing with smiles, though her heart was shuddering within her. + +“Darling, my own, I am so sorry too,” Eric was covering her upturned +face with kisses. “My dearest, my very own.” + +Outside, the dog stood cold and stiff in the damp night air, aching +with thirst, his poor, half-crazy eyes turned up to the moonlit sky +from which no mercy came. The hours crept by, till the clock in the +village struck three. For seven years he had listened to those strokes +that marked the passing hours, hours that never brought him nearer to +liberty, to the free use of his cramped limbs, to any of the natural +joys for which he had been created. He sank wearily down on his +haunches. He could no longer cry out; his voice seemed broken in his +throat, his tongue was swollen and black. He kept his head turned to +the window where he had seen the two figures stand looking at him. Some +faint, dull hope had stirred in him that they might be thinking of +him, that they might be coming to him to alleviate his misery and his +torment of thirst. But no, the window had been shut and had gone dark. + +Inside the room the strokes of the clock vibrated through the +stillness, and Eva, lying open-eyed and filled with desperate +impatience, slid noiselessly out of bed, and with soundless movements +and feverish haste began to dress. Eric was asleep. Never in all her +life had she prayed for anything so fervently as she did now that he +might remain so. With infinite caution she crept about the room, making +her toilet to the minutest detail. Within her all her personal self +felt humiliated, outraged, seething with fury, but she would not think +of herself, only of the work ahead to be done. + +Hurry generally means noise. Therefore, filled with burning impatience +as she was, she had to move slowly, regulating each movement and each +tip-toe step. Once Eric moved and sighed, and she started in terror +and stood motionless, but he did not awake, and with a thumping heart +and trembling fingers she went on with her preparations. When she was +fully dressed to her hat, and with her gloves and purse stowed away in +her bodice, together with Eric’s clasp-knife that he had left lying on +the table, she approached the unoccupied bed standing in the corner +by the window, and inch by inch drew the sheets from it. These alone +would have been too short a length for her purpose even when knotted +together at their extreme ends, but she took the counterpane as well, +and all three end to end she judged would let her nearly to the ground. +At their country place at home her father had shown her how to escape +in case of fire, and she knew now exactly what to do. She knotted +the corner of the sheet tightly round the little wooden post of the +bed, and then there was the barrier of the window to be surmounted. +She did not dare to draw back the curtains for fear of the rattle of +their rings, but she lifted them slowly and silently to one side and +then with both hands and infinite care, guided the spring blind up and +looked out. Her heart gave a leap of boundless sympathy as she saw the +great dog sitting at the end of his tightly-drawn chain, still gazing +towards the window--his only hope--as he had been hours ago. + +No Juliet felt more eager to join her Romeo than this girl did now +to get to the suffering animal and soothe its pain. And of such +natures is the Kingdom of Heaven. Such people are those who make this +earth a little less like hell. Blind and curtain out of the way, it +still remained to open the window without noise. Very, very softly +with indrawn breath and shaking heart, she raised it half way, just +enough to let her through. Then she paid out her long rope of knotted +bedclothes, and looking out, she saw it reached to within about eight +feet of the yard. Then, as often before in the fire drill, she crept +on to the window sill, twisted her feet well round the dangling cloths +and gripped them hard in her little hands. Then down, down she swung +her light weight and dropped at length noiselessly to the ground. The +captive in the yard rose to his feet and lowered his head, staring at +her fixedly, but he gave no sound. Some instinct seemed to tell him +that all this strange proceeding had something to do with him. + +The girl, once out of the room and away from the sleeping man she had +sworn to love and honour and cleave to till death, felt such a rush of +joyous elation that it seemed to give her wings. Quite half her work +was successfully accomplished. She ran swift and silent as a shadow +across the yard. + +As he realised she was actually coming to him, the enormous dog tore at +his chain, and as he could not advance he reared himself on his hind +legs, his front pawing at the air, his eyes almost out of his head, +his foaming jaws wide open. It was a fearsome sight, but the girl went +on unflinchingly, straight up to the desperate animal. Tall as she was +the dog stood as high as herself, and as she reached him his great +bony, shaggy paws descended heavily on her shoulders, and she put both +her arms out under them and clasped him to her warm, loving breast. +And the animal enveloped in that marvelous electricity that flowed out +from her, soothed and calmed instantly by that contact with true loving +humanity which he had longed for all through his dreary life stood +perfectly still, all his raging pulses calmed, all his tormenting pains +dying away. + +“Darling, be good now while I release you,” she said in his ear, and +gently let him slide to his four feet. Then she knelt down beside him +and put her hands to his collar. + +The dog understood perfectly she had come to release him. At last, at +last he would be free, and he stood patient and still as a statue, +only his whole frame quivered and thrilled with joy. He felt her +little fingers trying desperately to undo the hateful collar. Eva’s +heart beat almost to choke her. Suppose, suppose she failed to get it +undone. Seven years had solidified the leather almost into iron; the +brass point that pierced the leather was embedded in and had become one +almost with it. + +Both were welded together under a thick coat of verdigris. Every nail +on her fingers was broken before she gave up the hopeless task of +unstrapping it. Then, keeping one hand on the dog’s head, she felt in +her bosom for the knife. + +Because she understood him so perfectly, and that his loneliness and +forsaken neglect had been the chief sorrow of his life, she knew +just how to manage him. When she failed to undo the collar, he felt +his heart die within him and had she moved away from him, his poor +desperate brain would have given way. But she kept quite close to +him and that told him that all hope was not lost, and nerved him to +patience. The collar was loose for the hair had been rubbed and the +neck wasted away which had filled it, and there was room for the +knife-blade to pass under the leather. + +“Hold still, now, don’t move,” she whispered in tense tones, and then +sawed with all her strength, outwards on the collar. + +It seemed incredibly hard, but the knife was sharp and leather must in +the end yield to steel. + +After minutes that seemed hours she cut it through, and with one great +bound the dog leapt away from chain and collar. Free! Free in the +moonlit night! Eva rose to her feet, and he came back to her, lowering +his great body down to the earth on his fore-paws, and then springing +to his full height to put them on her breast to show his rapture. +Elated, joyous, but still in terror of being overtaken, Eva threw one +rapid glance over the silent house and up to the window where her long +white rope hung gleaming in the moonlight. + +Then “Come,” she said to the dog, and close, side by side, they raced +out of the yard by the door just behind where he had been chained. A +door that was never fastened for he had guarded it so faithfully and +securely. Out of the yard and through the wasty farmyard adjoining, +then over the low wall surrounding it, and they were out on the slope, +tearing away like mad things to the shelter of the wood. + +Here they continued to run, down the narrow, mossy path that Eric +and she had come by, filled with such different feelings the evening +before. Silent now, with all their strength given to speed, but with +perfect union of intention, they steadied down to an even trot, the dog +modifying his pace to the human being’s. He knew that she had saved +him, freed him, and he was now her faithful slave for life. No evil, +no danger should come near her. No enemy could lay a finger on her as +long as an atom of strength remained in him to defend her. He was hers +and she was his till death. + +At last they reached the spot where the train had pulled up the +previous evening, and Eva, still hounded by the fear of pursuit, after +a few minutes’ rest, ran on steadily, taking a little path that passed +beneath evergreens near the railway. + +The station down the line was thirteen miles distant, yet such is the +force of joy and the power of will and determination that the girl felt +hardly fatigued when she saw the red and green lights ahead of her; and +she walked into the booking office with a light and springing step as +the yawning clerk opened it. + +The next train to London, the first in the day to carry the mails, left +in fifteen minutes. She took her ticket and a dog ticket, and went out +on to the platform and sat down. She felt such happiness, such joy +in her success, her accomplished plan, that nothing in her life had +equalled it, and all sense of pain and tiredness were entirely drowned +in it. + +The dog was more distressed than she. He fell heavily at her feet +as she sat down. He was footsore, his limbs ached and he was oh, so +thirsty, but he minded nothing. He was content. + +Eva had been afraid to wait to give him water, but she bent over him +now, looking anxiously at his swollen, hanging tongue. He did not ask +for anything, only looked up at her with great eyes from which the +wildness was already dying away; for had he not felt a soft hand on +his head and heard a kind voice in his ear? + +She rose to seek water for him, and, stiff and sore though he was, he +dragged himself to his feet to follow her. He could not bear her to +move away from him. + +There was a little tap of water standing out from the wall further down +the platform, and stooping down, she turned it on and made a little +bowl of her two small, pink-palmed hands for him to drink from. At +first he seemed hardly able to swallow, nor get the water over his +swollen tongue, but she waited patiently, and at last he drank easily +and freely as long as she thought good for him. Then they walked +back to the seat and she sat down and took his head on her knees and +smoothed back the harsh, rough hair and looked deep into his eyes, and +they talked together, as lovers do, in looks and silence. + +At last the train arrived, and the guard of it came along, swinging +his lantern. He stopped when he caught sight of her daintily-dressed +figure, and the huge, rough wolfhound at her side. She turned to him, +her hand on the carriage door. + +“Can I take him in the carriage with me?” she asked. + +The guard flashed his light over them. + +“Yes, that’ll be all right. The train’s almost empty,” he replied, +eyeing the dog. He was not at all anxious to have the grim-looking +beast shut up with him in his van. + +“Not many people travels at this time of night,” he added +inquisitively, looking in at her after she was seated and the dog had +dropped onto the floor of the carriage. + +Eva made no response, and he turned away mumbling in a dissatisfied +tone: “Runaways and eloping couples, thieves and such--them’s wot +travels at night.” + +Two or three minutes more of this anguished suspense and then the train +started, gathered speed and they were away--safe. She leant over the +dog with a joyous laugh. Oh, the relief of that moving train! Not Eric +nor Bates, nor all the farm hands could overtake them now. + +“He talked of eloping couples; that’s just what we are, aren’t we, +darling?” And the dog beat his great, waving brush of a tail on the +carriage floor for answer. She sat back in a corner, for the first time +realising that she was very tired, but the joy at her heart glowed more +fiercely every moment as the train rushed on its non-stop run to town. +She had done it all; she had succeeded so admirably. She had saved the +dog. She did not believe they could be separated now. If Bates sued +her for stealing his dog she was ready to pay his full value which the +farmer would probably prefer; and Eric? What would he do or say or +think when he woke and found himself alone in the room where he had +locked himself? Would he climb down the sheets as she had done? She +wondered and laughed. But whatever he did he should never approach her +again. + +Arrived in town she went straight to her sister, a girl of twenty, +widowed in the War, who had always strenuously disapproved of Eric. +Brushing past the astonished footman in the hall, she ran upstairs and +found the beautiful Linda still in bed. She sat up in astonishment as +Eva and the great hound burst into the room. + +“Linda, I’ve eloped!” + +“Well, you _are_ modern! You were only married yesterday!” + +“I know,” Eva answered, sitting down in a deep armchair, “but I found I +hadn’t married the man I meant to after all, but somebody else that I +didn’t like at all.” + +“We most of us do that,” returned Linda, swinging two ivory feet out of +bed and eyeing the dog: + +“What a beautiful dog. What’s he doing here?” + +Few would have applied that adjective to the great creature stretched +before her. But Linda saw through the devastation man had made to the +original beauty given by Nature. + +“He is the cause of everything. I eloped with _him_.” + +“What do you mean? Tell me everything, now, from the beginning,” and +Linda wrapped herself in a rose-hued gown and settled herself to +listen. The dog stretched himself out on his side between them and +fell asleep, worn out, not so much by the physical exertions as the +conflicting emotions of the night. + +Eva told all; shortly, incisively. Only once did she give rein to her +feelings--when she had to tell how she had bought Eric’s passivity and +sleep--she sprang up with her hands clenched into knots. + +“If I have a child by him, I’ll kill it before it breathes!” she +exclaimed. “What is the good of multiplying callous brutes like that?” + +Linda listened attentively to the end. Then she rose and rang the bell. + +“You poor thing, you must be quite worn out. What you want is breakfast +first and then sleep.” + +“But did I do rightly? Do tell me what you think, Lin.” + +“Of course I think so, and I think you have made a good exchange. A dog +will never disappoint you--never go back on you--never be unkind to +you, never be unfaithful to you and a man will--always.” + +Eva sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes. + +“It’s so good to be back with you, Lin.” + +The maid brought in hot coffee, and a huge breakfast tray of delicious +edibles, and the girls laughed and talked as they ate, and the dog who +had had bones flung to him on the flags, had a pile of delicate curly +slices of bacon on a hand-painted porcelain dish. After breakfast Linda +insisted on Eva going to bed, and there in that soundless room the girl +and dog slept away the morning hours. + +In the afternoon Eric came, and Eva went down to see him in the library. + +“What does all this mean?” he asked as she closed the door and stood +facing him. + +“I am not coming back to you. Linda has asked me to stay with her, and +I have accepted.” + +“But you married me!” + +“No, that’s where you make the mistake. I married a dream man, a man +of my own imagination, a man who was decent and kind and humane, quite +different from you altogether.” + +Eric flushed a dull, angry red. + +“You consummated the marriage with _me_ anyhow; you won’t deny +that, I suppose?” he said. + +A look of intense repulsion came over her face. + +“For the dog’s sake, I gave myself to you, though I _loathed_ +you,” she answered in a low tone, full of repressed vehemence. + +“For the dog’s sake,” repeated Eric, growing more and more bewildered +and less and less able to solve the problem that woman always presents +to man. “How? I don’t understand.” + +“You had determined to sit up all night and prevent me going to him; if +I had had any chloroform or any drug to put you to sleep I would have +given it to you. I had nothing but myself so I gave you that.” + +She was standing close to him and looking straight into his eyes. The +gaze was relentless and bright as the blade of a sword. + +“But your kisses--your wonderful passion--your insistence--” he +stammered. + +“It was all for his sake. I tell you, I hated and loathed you.” + +“It was damned good acting then.” + +“It could hardly exceed yours during our engagement,” she flashed back. + +“Acting, no, it was prostitution,” he said with a sudden storm of +anger, “if what you say now is true.” + +“Perhaps; you may call it what you please. I would do anything in the +world to save a helpless and suffering animal and be proud of it,” she +answered. + +Eric turned away and took a few paces up the long room. She angered +him. In a way he longed to strike her for what she said to him, but +the memory of last night clung to him and held him. It had been so +wonderful, so perfect, her love, real or assumed; she looked now so +bright, so true, so undaunted, he longed for her, coveted her more than +ever he had done in the past. He could not imagine how they had drifted +into this mess. He had tried hard to please her during their engagement +and had succeeded. He had won her. How had he lost her so soon? He did +not know what to say, nor how to act. And all about this stupid dog; he +would kill the beast if he could get hold of it. + +“What can we do now?” he said, at last in a tone of bewildered +perplexity. + +“We must get a divorce. I believe it can be managed somehow. Your wife +has eloped, deserted you, refuses to come back, go to a lawyer and see +what he can do for you. If those charges are not enough, I have done +more for I married a good man, and my wedding night was passed with +somebody else, another totally different man. If a lawyer can’t twist +that into cause for divorce, he can’t be much of a lawyer. I don’t +want to spoil your whole life, so I give you leave to say anything you +like about me.” + +And before he had realised it, she had opened the door and had gone, +and though he stormed and swore and summoned the servants and Linda +came down to him, nothing would induce Eva to see him again. + +She vanished from him and all he could do was to follow her advice and +seek consolation of his lawyers. + +About a year later, had anyone passed through the scarlet land of +poppies at Cromer, he would have seen two girls sitting among them, +looking out to the hazy sea, and a great wolfhound lying between +them. He has been christened Joy, and his sparkling eye and glossy +coat, his rounded form and waving brush of a tail all speak to the +appropriateness of his name. + +He and Eva are inseparable and he understands her looks, her tones, her +words. He understands _her_ far better than Eric ever had, and at +any moment he would lay down his life joyfully for her sake. + +“I see that Eric has married again, Eva,” Linda said presently. “So now +you are really and truly free. Do you think you will ever marry again, +yourself?” + +“Not while Joy lives,” Eva answered, her little hand resting on his +neck and buried in its thick, glossy black hair. “I would never give +him a rival. The next man might want to chain him up in the yard! Then +we’d have to run away again, wouldn’t we, Joy?” + +And the great dog leapt to his feet and gave a deep, musical bark in +answer, bounding backwards and forwards and leaping up to them as the +two girls rose and wended their way slowly through the poppies, emblems +of peace and forgetfulness, home. + + + + + THE JEWEL CASKET + + +The wind howled miserably round the great London station and pierced +the thin, worn clothing of Jim Thorn and Bill Smith as they loitered, +hands in pockets, near the mouth of one of the draughty passages. + +It was a bitter January evening and neither inside them nor outside +them had the men anything to keep them warm. + +“It ain’t no sort of use, Bill,” remarked Jim, drearily, after a long +silence during which both men had been gazing across the wide space +filled with moving figures to where the refreshment buffet threw out +its warm and cheery glow speaking of the tempting delights within. +“We shan’t get a job here to-night. There’s too many reg’lar porters +about.” He was a thin, spare man, with a long white face in which shone +two grey eyes of a kindly expression. Once a good gardener, ill-health +and ill-luck had brought him to evil days. + +“Go on with yer! Who came here after a job?” snarled the other, +in every way a contrast to his companion: thick-set and heavy, +bull-necked, long-lipped and cruel-eyed. “It’s pinching we’re after and +I’ll get something to-night or I’m not Bill Smith.” Lie finished his +sentence with an oath. The other made no reply, only sank into a still +more slouching position against the wall. The crowd of passengers +before them had swelled. There were many coming out from the ticket +office following well-filled trucks of luggage. It was not long now +to the departure of a favorite express into Kent. Jim Thorn’s gaze +drifted about the throng until it lighted on a girl’s figure, one of a +newly-arrived party, and there it remained. His eyes followed her about +with interest, not because he thought she had anything to “pinch,” but +because, in his own instinctive, uneducated way, he loved all pretty +things. She was a very pretty young lady in her plain dark clothes and +her heavy furs, with a slim tall figure and golden curly hair peeping +out from underneath her small black velvet hat. Jim looked at her with +pleasure. He quite forgot about the hot coffee he had been dreaming of +in watching her dainty movements. + +It did not occur to him to envy her furs or her warm clothing, nor +to be wrathful with her that she had them, and he had not. His mind +was not of the Socialist order. He no more expected her to give him +her cloak than he expected himself to give his coat to one who had +only waistcoat and trousers. Her cloak was hers and his coat was his, +and could he have explained his mental attitude in words, he would +have told you that he was jolly glad that the same law and order that +enabled the lady to keep her cloak, also gave him the right to keep his +coat and not have it torn off his back by one poorer than he. Although +the companion of a thief, he was by nature a respecter of property. + +Suddenly he felt a great grab on his arm, and Bill bent his large red +face close to him. + +“Look there!” he whispered excitedly. “The very thing I was looking +for. See that party?” + +Jim, following with his gaze Bill’s outstretched finger, saw to his +dismay that it indicated the very young girl he had been so admiring. + +“See that little case she has?” pursued his companion in his thick, +beery accents. “Mark my words, that a jool case!” His mouth was close +to Jim’s ear now. “P’raps dimonds, maybe pearls.” He let fly these +imposing words like darts into Jim’s ear. + +Jim straightened up and strained his eyes to see what the girl was +carrying. It certainly did look most inviting. A little square, rather +deep case of some dark wood, clamped carefully on all sides with metal, +and with a handle on the top through which the dainty hand of its owner +was passed. It looked as if pearls or diamonds might be lying on cotton +wool inside, and yet the sentimental Jim felt he did not want that +young lady robbed. + +“It’s a bit small,” he ventured lamely, in a discouraging tone. + +The burly one gave a contemptuous grunt. “Much good _you’d_ be at +the game without me,” he answered. “Haven’t you never heard wot’s good +comes in small parcels? Don’t you know that small and valuable, easy to +sell and light to carry should be the pinchers’ motto? I’m onto that +there jool casket, if I dies for it.” + +“But you don’t know what’s in it,” argued Jim. “Maybe it’s just a +purse with not much in, an’ a ticket, an’ a hanky.” + +The other sniffed scornfully, his gaze glued on the girl’s hand as he +answered: + +“You just watch, as I do, an’ don’t talk so much. I’ve watched and +watched that girl till I knows wot’s in that casket as well as I knows +wot’s in my pocket. ’Ow do I know? Well, because she’s that careful +of it. She looks down at that little box every half-minute and just +now, when she set it down for a second and the porter comes by, up she +snatches it again and holds it to her, and w’en just now someone wanted +to take it off her while she fastened her jacket, she shakes her head +and clings on all the time.” + +“It’ll take some doing to get it,” replied Jim, with intensifying gloom. + +“I can manage it,” returned Bill, swelling out his chest. “You’ll see. +I’ll always take trouble for jools, and jools they is. Girls don’t go +on like that about anything else.” + +“P’raps it’s her young man’s picture,” suggested the sentimental Jim in +a last hope of changing his companion’s intention, though the little +square box with its clamp did not suggest a portrait-case. + +The light from where the men stood was not very good and the dark case +sank indistinguishably into the shadow of the girl’s dress. Bill could +not see to his satisfaction what shape and look it really had but the +girl’s intense solicitude for it carried complete conviction to his +mind which was unable to imagine anything being of value except what +could be turned into cash. + +The conversation came to an end as the crowd of passengers moved toward +the barrier. It was time for action and the two thieves mingled with +the stream of hurrying humanity and pressed closely up behind the party +to which the girl with the jewel-case belonged. She was certainly very +careful of it. She held it tightly and firmly to her so that it could +not be caught or brushed out of her grasp by any jostling or hustling +movement and she constantly glanced down on it as if to assure herself +of its safety. The train had not come up and the throng swayed back +again, Bill and Jim moving naturally with it, but always quite close +to the girl. They were, though thinly and poorly dressed, not ragged, +or in their aspect in any way likely to attract attention. Bill, +especially, had adapted for the occasion quite a traveling appearance +and had a light overcoat on one arm. True it was only a bit of an +overcoat, but when skilfully draped on the arm, looked quite well and +might have its uses. Their quarry now approached the book-stall to the +delight of Bill, but though the girl stopped to look with interest at +the books and papers and even purchased one of the latter, she never +once set down the little box. The train was now due and the passengers +thickly bunched near the barrier to the platform. Once through the +barrier the girl would be, as Jim put it to himself, “safe,” for he +really did not want to see that box filched from her slender hand, and +as Bill put it to himself, “lorst.” He felt desperate and was just +inwardly cursing his luck when luck itself favoured him. The girl was +standing chatting to the older persons of her group, presumably her +parents, when a young man, leading a fat terrier, hurriedly joined the +throng round the gates. Bill’s eye fell on the dog, and he instantly +moved to the side of the girl farthest from the young man. With a +movement of his hand he attracted the dog’s attention, and next moment +the chain was wound round the girl’s ankles. The dog-owner pulled at +the chain, but to free herself she had to take it from his hand, and to +do so, for one moment, she set the box down beside her. In the second, +while she stooped over the dog, Bill’s great hand dropped on the +box. It was lifted and under his hanging coat, and he and Jim sifted +themselves out of the press of passengers now swaying to the gates +which had just been opened. Calmly, quietly, with blank faces, Jim and +Bill crossed the station to the exit, hearing in their rear a sort of +confused clamour which told them the owner of the box had discovered +her loss. + +No one stopped them, no one looked at them. They slipped through the +wind-swept passage, and in a few seconds were out in the street; still +without apparent haste, but at a good pace, they turned down a side +alley and made a short cut for “home.” As they turned down one silent, +dark street, Bill, swelling with satisfaction, opened out on his +companion. + +“Now you see wot it is. But for me you’d never have got this necklace, +or tiary, whichever it is, an’ we might have stayed grubbin’ at ’ome +all winter. Now we’ll have a trip abroad for it won’t do to try and +sell ’em here. It ain’t safe for pearls and dimonds.” + +“We don’t know yet that they is pearls and dimonds,” objected Jim. + +“There you go. You haven’t the brain to imagine anything,” returned +Bill loftily. “And what do you think a young lady would be +carrying--herself--personally, mind, when she had a strappin’ maid +walking behind her with a dressing-case a yard square. Maybe you’d have +gone for that dressing-case,” he added, with a crushing sneer. “That’s +the ordinary brain all over. Sees what’s just ahead an’ no more; goes +for the gilt-topped bottles and lets the tiarys go. Now p’raps when +we’ve sold the jools and are getting a fling on the Continnong you’ll +be grateful you’ve got such a partner and you won’t be so narsty about +it.” + +It was a bitter night; sleeting now and with scurries of icy wind and +snow. In the sky a moon was struggling up amongst thick black clouds, +the streets and alleys through which they passed were slippery, wet +and dark. Arrived at a dingy building with a gaping open doorway, they +groped their way up an unlighted stone staircase and reached their +“pitch” at the top in safety. Bill marched in first with the air of a +conqueror, and Jim followed, bolting the door after him. There was a +little light from the remains of a smouldering fire in the grate. + +Jim stirred it into a blaze and fed it with some split-up egg-boxes, +and Bill turned on the gas and lighted it. + +“That’s my job,” he said, setting down the little dark case on the +table, “and a neat bit of work I calls it, and that dawg helped +wonderful.” + +Jim regarded it mournfully. Odd though it may seem this strange waif of +humanity was not thinking of the rich contents; he was wondering what +the poor young lady was feeling at having lost it. + +The light revealed a curious den in which these two lived. A folding +bed of ancient date with one side sagging to the floor, in the corner. +A capacious cupboard in the wall through the half-open door of which +strange and various articles were protruding, a table in the centre +with scattered tin cups and plates and battered tin teapot on it and on +the window ledge a cracked flower-pot with a primrose-root growing in +it--Jim’s. + +“Now, then,” said Bill, “let’s have a look.” He took up the box and +turned it round. “Why, blimey, it hasn’t a lock,” he exclaimed, rather +blankly. “That don’t look like jools--only a bit of a catch like this, +and two ’oles each side. Wot the ’Ell’s that for?” + +With fingers beginning to tremble, he forced up the brass catch and +then tore open the lid, and then both men who had been bending forward +over their treasure, collapsed suddenly speechless, on the two chairs, +and sat opposite to each other staring across the table, for there +within the box was no necklace of rare pearls reposing on velvet +cushions, but a neat little nest of hay, from the centre of which +looked out with enquiring eyes--two white mice! + +Very dainty silk-like coats of the purest white on which the gas-light +gleamed, tiny pink paws of the palest shell-like pink, little white +ears delicate as a butterfly’s wing and large eyes like glowing rubies. +Gentle and not dreaming that anyone could hurt them, they looked up at +the staring faces of the men over them, unafraid, and began polishing +their noses with their tiny paws. + +Bill recovered from the shock first. With a foul oath, he sprang to his +feet and made a grab at the box, but Jim was too quick for him. With +one of his agile movements that made him such an invaluable thief, he +snatched away the box before Bill’s heavy hand reached it, snapped down +its lid and held it firmly in both hands against his chest. + +“Wot yer goin’ to do with it?” he asked. + +For a full ten seconds, Bill swore all the best oaths he knew. + +“Do with it?” he roared at the finish. “Throw it on the fire and see +those vermin burn alive--you just give it me!” + +Jim turned pale and clutched the box tighter. + +“Now, Bill, you’d never do such a thing,” he urged anxiously. “They’s +done you no harm and it’s crool to burn them; no good’d come of it, +besides the lidy was fond of ’em, you saw that yourself, and maybe +there’ll be a reward. Here’s a name and address on the box.” + +This was sound sense, but Bill was blind and deaf with fury. No oaths +nor mere words could suffice to vent his rage. Some horrible violence +and cruelty alone could do that. He made a lunge across the rickety +table, but Jim avoided him and backed against the wall. He was pale, +but his eyes shone with an indomitable light. A frail, small man with a +poor physique and little health or strength but there was a spirit in +him that had often stood up to and conquered the big bully before. He +saw now this might be a fight to the death, but he just felt he didn’t +care. He would be crushed to a pulp first before Bill got hold of the +box and burned those two little innocent things inside. His blood was +up and on its tide had risen that wonderful determination that can make +one weak man equal to ten strong ones. Bill was round the table in an +instant and let fly at him a blow from his ponderous fist which he +meant to stretch him senseless, but Jim dodged and it only caught the +corner of his eye and his lean arm seemed locked like steel across the +box on his chest and Bill wrenched at it in vain. + +Does some great current of electricity come into being with that mental +fixity of purpose and lend a determined combatant a strength altogether +beyond his own? + +It seemed so to Jim. He seemed full of some living force as he dodged +round the table and chairs and over the bed and Bill came floundering +after him, cursing and sending his blows wide of the mark. At last Jim +found himself close to the door and with a monkey’s quickness shot back +the bolt and fell through the opening door. Bill grabbed him by the +neck, but Jim wriggled so furiously that both men fell in a heap on the +top stair and then rolled to the bottom. As they bumped onto the last +step, Bill’s hands sank from the other’s neck and while Jim scrambled +to his feet he lay inert and crumpled on the lowest stair. + +Jim, breathless, his thin clothing torn and one eye closed, but still +gripping the box to his body, ran out into the street and to the +nearest lamp-post. There under the wavering light he read the address +on the casket-lid: + + MISS TORRINGTON + Hailstone Hall + Sevenoaks, Kent. + +All the time Bill had been chasing him round the attic a resolution had +been forming in his mind. If he escaped with his life he would take the +box and its little inmates back to the young “lidy.” + +For years past in his low degraded existence this man’s soul had +vaguely yearned after goodness, as a plant in a dark cellar strains +with its colourless leaves towards its native light, but there was +little opportunity in his life overshadowed by Bill for anything but +crime. He hated Bill but he couldn’t get away from him. He had not +the strength of mind to say good-bye to the daring pal who kept the +attic supplied with bread and beer and knew exactly how to utilise in +his petty thievings the sharp agility of Jim. But now to-night was +the end of it all. Bill was down and out and the way lay clear to a +good action, and standing there in the biting cold with his bleeding +eye and bruised body, he thrilled through and through with joy. He had +done something already. He had foiled his companion’s brutal intention, +he had saved the animals, and now if he could restore the “lidy’s” +property to her safe and sound he felt he would be content no matter +what happened to himself. Possibly the thought of a reward struggled +for life at the back of his mind, but it was not the prompting motive, +and there was a risk of being turned over to the law and to prison on +returning the property, which far out-balanced the possible reward. To +have kept on the right side of his partner and destroyed the stolen +goods, as a business proposition, was far better, but the thought of +the lady’s pleasure and the joy of the little creatures that had looked +out so confidingly at him, attracted him just as the primrose blossoms +pleased his eyes when they bloomed in the Spring on his window ledge. + +Sevenoaks! Not so far away--a matter of twenty-four mile. He had +tramped it before in the hop-picking season; he could tramp it again. +It was a freezing night, but the moon was getting up, and if he had +luck he would be there in the morning. He raised the lid of the casket +and looked in to see if his treasures were still safe. Yes, there they +lay close side by side, like tiny snowballs tucked down in the hay +which had protected them through all the scuffling with Bill and the +roll down the stairs. + +Jim carefully snapped to the lid and put the box under his arm for +shelter against the searching wind. Then aching and shaky in body but +dauntless in mind he set out for his tramp to Sevenoaks. When the city +and its pitiless streets were left behind him and he had once reached +the open country road he felt happier. Here there were no police to +pass with a quaking heart as they sternly eyed his blood-stained face +and torn coat. He stepped out more strongly as the night wind of the +countryside blew in his face. It was cold but not so damp and cruel +as London’s breath. He looked over the hedge-tops across the wide +meadows with the shadowy form of sleeping cattle; he looked at the +trees arching over him and the tracery of their shadows on his path, +at the sky with the moon riding high in it through bands of scurrying +clouds, and he felt he loved it all. Wonderful indeed, as the Latin +poet sang, is the joy of the mind conscious of its own right doing, and +wonderful also is the dominion of man’s mind over his body. Jim, the +poor, penniless tramp, hungry and empty and aching, footsore, weary +and cold, marched on full of the greatest joy of his life because his +mind told him he was doing right. Many doubts and fears beset him and +much anxious questioning as to his reception and his fate but nothing +could quell that springing sense of joy in his heart as mile after mile +fell behind him. When the first red light of morning lit up the sky, it +shewed a forlorn and limping figure with a drawn and haggard face, but +with a proud, glad light in its one uninjured eye. + +The great gates of Hailstone Hall looked imposing enough, shut tight in +frosty splendour of twisted ironwork, but they were not locked and Jim +pushed them open with an unfaltering hand. The drive winding between +the velvet green of tall evergreen trees and with gleaming bands of +sparkling frost on each side, lay before him silent and solitary save +for the birds hopping across it, and Jim walked straight up the middle +of it and found himself with a beating heart on the steps before the +big front door. No slinking round by the back door for him with that +proud consciousness of right in his breast. He wanted no delays and +parleys with impeding and inquisitive servants. He felt weak and his +strength failing; with the last bit of it he wanted to put the box +himself straight into the lady’s hand, and then what became of him did +not seem to matter at all. + +The door opened in response to his modest ring and a young footman +looked out at him with blank astonishment. + +“Please can I see Miss Torrington,” said Jim. “I’ve something for her +which she wants very particular.” + +He had thought this sentence out with care, and it certainly showed +ingenuity in its suggestion of the lady’s desire to see him. + +The door was not slammed in his face as he feared it might be. The +young footman held it, still staring at him in silence. As he said +afterwards in the servants’ hall, “I was that surprised at his cheek +coming to the front door in his condition I couldn’t say nothing.” + +At that moment the butler chanced to cross the hall and seeing the open +door and the intruder on the steps, approached. A tall, portly man the +butler, who would have made about four of Jim. As he came up the frail +one clutched still harder the box against his bony ribs. “Good Lord, if +she should drop upon me, I’m done,” was the thought that dashed through +his brain. Nothing of the kind happened, however. + +“My good man,” said the butler benevolently, “what is it you want?” + +Jim repeated his fine phrase, but stammering a little as his weakness +gained on him. + +“Very good,” replied the butler blandly, “Give me what you have and I +will give it to Miss Torrington.” + +Jim’s heart thumped, and the hall seemed moving round him, but he stuck +to his purpose. + +“Twenty-four miles,” he stammered with blue lips. “Give it ’er myself.” + +The butler looked him over. He was a man of some brains, or perhaps +he would not have been butler to Miss Torrington on a comfortable +salary. He met the clear determined gaze of Jim’s one unclosed eye and +read perhaps something in it that made him sign to Jim to enter and +the footman to close the door. Then he said: “If you wait here I will +enquire if Miss Torrington wishes to see you.” + +Jim stood still as a post just inside the door and erect, though +everything was getting uncertain round him, and the footman lounged +watching him. + +Though a thief by profession and accustomed to be so styled and +considered, a feeling of amusement stirred in Jim that the man should +mount guard over him here. + +“As if I’d steal a thing off ’er,” passed through him, and somehow this +new feeling of pride and self-respect he had been indulging in was so +delightful he thought he would never steal another thing as long as he +lived. + +Jim did not know how long he waited, but it seemed a world of time, +and then a swift, light step came down the stairs and the young +lady herself came across the hall towards him. There she was, slim, +dark-clothed form and golden hair and slender hand. + +“Oh, you’ve found my box!” she exclaimed in a sweet, soft voice. “Oh, +good man! Are they alive and all right?” + +Jim stood speechless; the last of his powers seemed deserting him. His +voice died in his throat. With both trembling hands he pushed out the +precious casket into her eager grasp. + +Then all went dark and he fell in a crumpled heap on the whiteness of +the marble flooring. + + * * * * * + +Bill is now in quod doing seven years for a burglary with violence, +but Jim is third gardener at Hailstone Hall, has a sunny room all to +himself, and a whole row of primroses on his window sill. + + + + + THE VENGEANCE OF PASHT + + +In the torrid heat of the Egyptian afternoon the desert lay +outstretched, a silent, shimmering golden sea. Little wavelets of sand +rose from its surface at intervals, curled over and blew away as the +scorching desert wind passed by. Otherwise nothing moved nor stirred +till the form of a camel outlined itself against the blue sky, walking +easily and swiftly and bearing on its back the slight white clothed +figure of a girl. She was young and extremely fair, the mass of curls +pressed up against the shady hat-brim was gold as the sunshine, the +eyes were bright sparkling blue like the sky above, the skin all +softness and bloom. She was humming to herself as she rode--she felt so +happy, so delightfully alone and free. She had slipped away from the +noisy clamoring crowd of tourists with whom she travelled on her little +Cook’s ticket which had cost her £25 and brought her to this ancient +land of old and sacred gods. + +She had escaped from the hateful attentions of one of the men of the +party and now with a map and a guide book she had started out on the +great adventure of finding for herself the obscure and lonely little +temple of the Goddess Pasht. + +From her childhood she had studied Egyptian history and she knew all +about the great Goddess; divine protector of all the feline tribe. Her +father had been an Egyptologist of some note and books and pictures of +Egypt had been her playthings from her earliest years but what were +books and pictures to the delights of being here at last and seeing for +herself the rich and glorious temples that have been the wonders of the +world for centuries? + +She rode on leisurely, accommodating her supple body to the long +swinging stride of the camel and the sun slanted slowly to the Western +sky behind her. She was thinking how delightful life would be if there +were more of this loneliness in it; that horde of chattering companions +she was with usually day and night, how she hated it and that one man +who pursued her so relentlessly. That wretched man, how she hated him. +He was positively spoiling the whole of her tour. Wherever she went +she always found that he was there. She never seemed able to escape +him. If their little boat had to cross the Nile to reach Thebes, he +always managed to secure the seat next to hers. If the party were +making an excursion on donkeys, he always rode his up beside hers and +once, through pushing up close beside her on a steep bank, he had +forced her donkey so near the edge that it had almost rolled over +it. It had been so from the very first, this constant pursuit of her +and she could honestly feel she had given him no encouragement. His +personal appearance on the first day she saw him among the crowd of +jolly-faced tourists had repelled her. The long lanky dark hair which +was always falling over his pallid forehead, the sinister dark eyes, +the peculiarly evil mouth and above all the large lean sinewy hands had +filled her with a sense of horror and repulsion. + +Even before she had heard what he was, a medical student, and been +shocked by his callous conversation, his horrid talk of his cruel +experiments on cats. Cats! animals that she particularly loved for +their soft, sinuous movements, their beautiful eyes and their deep +silent affections. + +She shuddered as she thought of him and glanced involuntarily behind +her. But here out in the desert there seemed no menace. Only limpid +golden light on golden sand met her eye, infinite silence and peace was +all around. + +She consulted the map; she should be nearing her destination now and +after a few more minutes she descried ahead of her the rising mound of +sand that marked the site of the half buried temple of Pasht. Rather +plain in its architecture and not imposing in size, it is often passed +over by the tourist and the sight-seer as unworthy of particular +notice, and the long camel ride one has to take to find. But now with +its smooth straight walls glowing gold in the magic lights and its dark +portal suggesting mysteries within, its lonely situation out here away +from any other tomb or temple away from every sign of life, half buried +beneath the drifting tide of sand it seemed to the girl most appealing, +far more interesting visited thus in its grandeur of desolation than +the larger ones she had seen thronged with loquacious dragomen and +gaping visitors. + +She pulled up the camel and looked around. Everywhere about her amber +glory of soundless space. + +“Khush” she said gently to the camel and the great docile beast went +down on his knees and let her dismount. + +She had to descend three steps and then through the great granite +doorway she entered the temple. + +There were three small horizontal windows, rectangular slits, at the +top of the walls near the stone roof on which the sand had piled and +the whole of the interior was full of a soft grey light. In the very +centre of the small square chamber was the great statue of the Goddess +about three times the girl’s own size. A seated majestic figure in grey +stone, the body that of a woman, bare breasted and with hands resting +on its knees, the head and face that of an enormous cat with calm fixed +eyes looking out towards the desert beyond the open door. So had it sat +gazing in unmoved calm while the centuries rolled by and generations of +men turned into dust which the desert wind swept by the temple door. + +Pasht sat there silent and alone in her neglected temple. Her +worshippers had passed away, the flowers and lights and wreaths of +former days were hers no more, the girls who had danced in her honour +and flung chains of roses round her feet, where were they now with +their dusky slender limbs and dark laughing eyes? Perished and gone but +she in her carven stone sat there still, serene and secure. + +The girl on first entering could see nothing but after a few minutes +when her eyes, accustomed to the soft gloom, took indistinctly the huge +form of the great woman-cat towering over her, a sense of awe enfolded +her and she dropped into a sitting position near its feet, and gazed up +reverently into the curious feline countenance, carved so long ago by +some skilled and loving hand. + +“Goddess, I love you,” she said in a whispering tone after a minute’s +silent musing, “just as much as any of your old, old long ago +worshippers did, and I love all cats all your incarnations. They are +the dearest darlings in the world and so misunderstood. Just because +they have not the exuberant spirits of the dog, man thinks they +can’t feel. But deep down in their dark reserved passionate natures, +they feel intensely and they love. Oh, how they can love when one +understands them! I am glad they were held sacred and worshipped in +Egypt! Perhaps I was one of your temple girls, Goddess, in those old, +far off times!” + +She sat still on the sand, her hands loosely clasped round her knees. +She felt so happy to have discovered the temple--and the statue that +her father had told her of and all by herself, and happy to be able to +sit still and think for which there was generally so little time in +this tour with the band of people always being hurried along from one +place to another. + +This was an interval of calm and rest and she was thoroughly enjoying +it. She felt no fear, no sense of loneliness, under the kind grave +eyes of the stone deity. She felt protected and with some august +companion. + +Suddenly in the soft and profound stillness a sound struck upon her +and thinking the camel had become restless, she rose and turned to the +door. Then drew back with a half uttered exclamation and stood close +against the colossal knees of the goddess with horror stamped on her +face. In the doorway stood the slim erect figure of a young man in a +light grey suit. Not apparently a very horrifying sight but a chill +hatred ran all along the girl’s veins as she looked at him and her hand +grew cold as the stone on which it rested. + +He advanced smiling. “This is a treat darling to find you here all +alone,” he said gaily coming up to her. “What’s this old thing here? +Why I do believe its a beastly cat,” and he stared up impudently into +the stately countenance above them. + +“Oh, hush! please, it’s a statue of the Goddess Pasht.” + +The young man looked back at her laughing, “Pasht, well who’s she and +why’s she got a cat’s head?” + +“She was the patron Goddess of cats,” said the girl. + +“Oh, was she? Well, she won’t like me then, I’ve cut up lots of her +protégés, starved them and drowned them and doubled them up with +tetanus.” + +“Please don’t tell me about it. I don’t want to hear.” The girl’s lips +were white; all her happy smiles and colour had fled. + +“Oh they were only ordinary wretched little street cats anyway,” +rejoined the man lightly. + +“How did you come here?” asked the girl. Her eyes were fixed on the +stone face above them. Was it only her fancy, or that the light was +failing? It seemed to her the countenance had darkened as if with wrath +and the calm gaze grown fierce and grim. + +“On a camel; same as you did. Oh, you didn’t think I was going over to +Thebes did you with the rest of the flock, if you weren’t there? Not +much. I just waited about in the Hotel and after you’d gone I found +out from the porter whom you’d hired the camel from, then I went to +_him_ and found out where you had headed for. Then I followed you +but I had to be precious careful you didn’t turn round and see me. One +can see for such miles in the desert.” + +“Why did you come?” the girl’s voice was strained and low. Oh, how she +hated this man who had made her life a burden ever since the beginning +of the tour. + +The man laughed. + +“What a question! As if you don’t know, you little humbug! Why to make +love to you of course, not to see this old Smash Pash or whatever you +said her name was.” + +“Well you know I don’t want to listen to you and its getting late now. +Let us ride back.” She was still standing by the knees of the statue. +He was between her and the door, she could not move towards it without +approaching him. + +She glanced round; the greyness of the temple was of a darker tint; +outside the glowing patch of light showed the approach of sunset. + +“Not at all. I have no intention of going back yet. You may as well sit +down and be sensible. I’ve come out to ask you again will you marry me?” + +“No, I have told you before I will not.” + +“Why?” + +“Because I don’t love you. I could never love anybody who cut up +animals alive.” + +“We don’t call it that now, you are so old fashioned, we call it +Scientific Research.” + +“It’s the same thing whatever you call it.” + +“Lots of women admire it.” + +“Well marry one of them.” + +“I don’t want to, I want to marry you.” + +“You can never do that.” + +“We shall see. To-morrow morning you will be begging and praying me to +marry you.” + +The girl went deadly cold all over and the sweat broke out on her +forehead. He had come a little nearer. Through the dark she could see +the evil face, the horribly eager expression. + +“What do you mean?” she stammered, her throat was dry, her limbs +trembled. Horror and hatred and a nameless fear possessed her. The +temple seemed growing smaller, its walls contracting, pushing him upon +her. + +“I should think you’d know. We’re going to make a night of it here and +if you’re alive in the morning--well, we’ll see what you say then.” + +There was a great dead silence. Now that she realized the extremity of +her danger her courage seemed to rise to meet it. She thought rapidly: +Was there any escape, any help anywhere? Was anyone likely to come to +her rescue? Would she be missed, followed? + +“You arranged it all very well,” the man’s voice went on in mocking +tones as if in answer to her thoughts. “You told no one where you were +going. Only the camel man has the least idea where you are and I’ve +tipped him well. He won’t tell anyone _in time_.” + +He was very near her now and suddenly he threw both arms round her +and drawing her up to him kissed her violently on the mouth. At the +touch of his lips a perfect fury of revolt rose in her and she struck +out wildly at him with her clenched fists. With the strength that the +madness of anger gives she wrenched herself loose from him and fled +behind the statue so that the colossal form of the image was between +her and her tormentor. There she paused trembling and gasping. + +The man was now by the knees of the statue. She saw his dark face and +the black brows contracted into a straight savage line as the light +from one of the slit-like windows above fell on it. He followed her +but terror lent wings to her feet and she fled away before he could +reach her circling round the image. He followed and dodged and circled +also but she was too quick and fleet in her movements for him to +circumvent. So for a few moments they played in a deadly game round +the age old Deity. But the girl felt her strength failing. The poisons +of hatred and anger, terror and loathing were pouring into her blood, +enervating her, taking away her powers. Her eyes were darkening, her +limbs giving way. + +In another moment she must faint and fall. + +They were on opposite sides now. Across the lap of the Goddess she +saw the crimson face, the bulging blood-shot eyes of the human beast +waiting to spring on her. The temple was going dark, all was whirling +before her. + +“Save me, Pasht!” + +And as her agonized scream rang through the temple, she pressed her +slender white hands against the arms of the statue. + +Was it the pressure of those soft fingers disturbing the balance +already shaken by the shifting of the sand floor through a thousand +years? Or was the stone heart of the Goddess turned to flesh and blood +as man’s heart is so often turned to stone? Who shall say? + +Before the murderous beast could move back from where he stood beside +her lap the huge idol reeled and fell over on its side with a sullen +thud bearing him to the ground beneath its six tons of solid granite. +The temple shook to its foundation and the whole air was filled with +a fog of blood and sand. One piercing shriek of agony rang through +it. Then there was silence except for the sound of the blood thrown +on the walls trickling down them to the ground. The concussion of the +air in that small space had thrown the already half fainting girl back +against the wall. For a moment she could see nothing, the stinging +sand filling and closing her eyes. Then as the particles settled down +once more to their age old repose her terrified gaze took in the form +of the huge image at her feet, the scarlet wall opposite her, the +semi-obliterated mass of small human form and clothes. The man’s face +was crushed deeply into the sand under the colossal shoulder of the +Goddess but something still moved, chaining her fascinated gaze--two +large sinewy hands scrabbled still convulsively pulling at the sand. +Then after a few more minutes these also grew motionless. Breathless, +terrified, half suffocated and dazed the girl still clung to the wall +hardly realising yet what had happened and if she herself were still +living and uninjured. Then as the sand settled and the air grew clear, +calmness returned to her and she knew she was safe and free. + +With gentle steps she approached the huge fallen form, avoiding the +horrid blue hands that looked still able to grip and grasp and holding +her skirts away from all the contamination oozing from under the stone +and looked down into the face of the statue. The light from the doorway +slanted on to it and seemed to soften it all into smiles and the desert +wind springing up passed through the temple and out at the top slits by +the roof with a loud purring sound. The girl stooped and pressed her +warm red lips on the ancient stone brow in a kiss of gratitude, then +passed out into the sunset and mounting her camel and followed by the +other, rode away over the golden sand and night settled slowly on the +desert in a violet dusk enclosing the ancient temple where the Goddess +Pasht lay purring on her prey. Her starry eyed children were avenged. + + + + + VILLAGE PASSION + + +The shapely mass of her body was outlined dark against the rosy gold of +the evening sky, as she sat on the top of the red brick orchard wall, +looking up and down the country road on which it bordered. + +She was named Apricot Marten and the Christian name given her by a +fanciful mother could not have been more suitably bestowed. She was +just like a golden glowing apricot in its very best condition when +it hangs basking in the summer sun. She had a soft, clear skin with +a warm flush in the velvet cheek, great lustrous laughing eyes of a +warm golden brown, and a wealth of bright waving hair in which the +sunrays seemed to have got permanently entangled. Her mouth was bright +crimson and turned up at its smiling corners, and her body was supple +and gracious in its full rounded contours. Altogether she was an +enchanting piece of girlhood just merging into womanhood, and many were +the sleepless nights passed by the young men of Fullingham village in +thinking about her. + +She was not entirely free from the reputation of a flirt, but deep in +her heart her choice was made, and from it she never swerved however +mischievously she might behave. + +It was John Macpherson the Highlander, the lithe, agile, black-haired, +hasty-tempered Scot who worked on the farm which adjoined her father’s +cottage and orchard. But she gave this away to no one, and many thought +she had her eye on Tony Morrison, whose father owned the little +village shop and general store, and, in absence of all competition, +did a good business. Tony served in the store, and while rather short +and insignificant in physique, made up for this by the extreme care +he bestowed upon his dress and personal appearance. He wore neat and +becoming grey suits and townish-looking hats, and always produced a +pleasing impression of great cleanliness and smartness. Tony’s heart +had been given long ago to Bessie Smith in the next village, a little +quiet mouse of a girl with violet eyes. Apricot was much too flamboyant +a personage to please his quiet taste, but this secret devotion he also +imparted to no one, and as Apricot was considered the belle of his +village, it flattered his masculine vanity to be supposed one of her +accepted admirers. By a quiet and modest smile he generally managed +to encourage the rumours about himself and Apricot while ostensibly +denying them. All of which made the heart of John Macpherson flare up +with consuming anger against him. + +Thus stood matters in Fullingham village on that lovely summer evening +when Apricot sat humming to herself on the top of the orchard wall. +The scene was truly idyllic in its beauty. Fullingham is one of the +prettiest villages in the quietest and most remote part of Devonshire, +and this evening the glory of pink light in the sky was so great it +turned even the white road a rosy colour, and all the hedges were full +of wild roses and the still warm air heavy with balmy scents. + +Apricot thought it beautiful, and looked with longing eyes up and down +the road. She felt she wanted to kiss somebody, to throw her arms +round somebody’s neck, and who so delightful for this as the handsome +Highlander, if he would only come! They had an appointment at this +place and hour. She was there, but where was he? There was no one to +be seen in the road except a small shock-haired boy gnawing an apple. +Then, swinging lightly along, came a figure down the road. + +Apricot put her hand to shade her eyes to see, but it was not John. She +thought at first it was Tony, that slight, neat form in grey with the +smart hat; but no, it was not he. It was a stranger. + +Up went Apricot’s hand to her hair to smoothe back a tress. What would +he think of her? She wondered. Would he look up as he passed? + +The stranger did more than that. When he came up to the orchard he +stopped and looked up. + +“What are you doing up there?” he asked. His voice was gentle and +courteous, and the face he turned up towards her very pleasant to look +at. + +Apricot did not resent his addressing her. + +“What’s that to you?” she called back saucily, showing her small white +teeth in a gay smile; and pulling a great red rose that grew on the +wall close to her hand, she threw it down full in his face. + +The stranger caught the rose and kissed it, and then stuck it in his +coat. + +“Come down and have a little walk with me. You look lonely up there.” + +“Not so lonely as you look in the road, young man.” + +“Oh, I’m lonely enough! That’s why I want your company.” + +“Will you catch me?” she said laughing and leaning over. + +“Certainly I will,” he answered, holding out his arms. “Come along.” + +She swung her shapely legs and neat feet over the side of the wall +next him, and then let herself slip down it. He caught her fine, +well-developed figure in his arms, and holding her up tight and close +gave her a kiss on her bright red lips. + +She slapped his face, but quite gently, and struggled away from him, +shaking her blue cotton gown straight that had been rather rumpled by +her descend. + +“Now we’ll go for a walk,” said the stranger. “Which way?” + +“Oh, we’ll go towards Hawley village. That’s very pretty,” she +answered. “And if you want the train you can get it there. You’re a +town gentleman, aren’t you?” she added shyly. + +Fullingham village is off the railway line and it was not an uncommon +thing for strangers to pass through the village from Riverside where +there was a station to Hawley on the other side where they could +again take the train, having walked through six miles of the prettiest +Devonshire scenery. + +“Oh, that’ll do very well. I didn’t know you had a train so near. Yes, +I’m finishing my holiday and going back to town to-night.” + +They were walking slowly up the road now in the gorgeous sunset light. +A moon large and pale as a thin white paper disc rose in the East +before them. + +Apricot had her own ideas in view in going in the Hawley direction and +shipping the stranger off her hands there. She was thoroughly enjoying +the new sensation of walking and talking with a London gentleman, but +she was not _quite_ sure how John Macpherson would view her little +promenade, and she was not _too_ anxious to be met or seen by him. +It was quite true he had not kept their tryst, and in her own mind that +quite excused her for going off with someone else. But then, he and she +did not always agree about these things, and altogether it was best to +take the handsome stranger out of her own village and over to Hawley in +which direction the Fullingham rustics did not often walk. + +Laughing and jesting and walking quite near together the two young +figures passed up the sunlit road. Some little way ahead of them there +was a fork, one road winding up an incline and passing through a larch +plantation on the hill before it dipped down to Hawley station, the +other a far prettier road following the valley and passing through a +lovely wood as it worked round to Riverside. + +Apricot and the stranger walked along with springing steps, taking the +Hawley road. It was surely an evening to feel, if ever, the madness +of Summer in one’s veins. He thought he had never seen such a lovely +country girl and she, without swerving in the least from her allegiance +to the fiery Macpherson, thought it was the greatest fun in the world +to be admired by a town gentleman, a real London man, with London +clothes and all. + +“There’ll be none of this when I’m married to John,” she was reflecting +inwardly. “Best have what fun I can now.” + +Heated a little by their walk up hill in the warm Devonshire air, they +entered the feathery larch plantation with a feeling of relief. It was +full of light, shade and music; thrushes and blackbirds, robins and +chaffinches not yet exhausted by their nesting cares were trilling on +every side of them. + +“Let’s sit down here,” he suggested as they came to a mossy bank where +a tiny brooklet tinkled by, and Apricot, flushed and lovely, sat +down willingly and let the stranger’s arm come round her waist. Her +conscience told her it was not quite right, but oh! that wood with its +rosy mystery of softened summer light and the wandering perfumes of +roses and hot resin and the magic of the birds’ voices, all talking of +love, what girl would not be swayed by it and made a little giddy by +the sweet intoxication of it all? + +Meantime, Macpherson had gone down to the store, his work being over +at the farm for that day, to buy himself a new tie wherewith to charm +Apricot at the trysting. He was much put out to find there only one +tie and that green, a colour he thought didn’t suit him. Everyone knows +the kind of village shop it was where everything is sold, but things +are so seldom what one wants. Gloves are there, but only size ten. +Boots are there, but only size four. Pencils are sold out, but you can +have a slate pencil. Bootlaces have not come in, but you can have a +ball of string. Macpherson bought his tie, and as the gawky girl who +assisted Morrison, was wrapping it up in a bit of paper too small for +it, he asked: + +“Where’s Tony?” + +“Gorn sweethearting, I ’spects,” answered the girl with a grin, +“leastways, he went out all dressed up in his new soot and hat.” + +Macpherson grunted, paid and left, went home, donned the tie, and then, +a little late, flustered and rather put out, hurried to the appointed +orchard wall. There was no Apricot--no one to be seen at all up or +down the wide country road except a small boy devouring the core of an +apple. Macpherson waited with glowering eyes. It was all very well for +him to be a bit late. He had a man’s work to do, but girls should be +punctual. + +Several minutes went by, each an hour to the waiting man. Then he +strode across to the boy on the other side. + +“You seen Miss Apricot about here?” he asked. + +The boy looked up stolidly. “I seed her a while ago.” + +“Where?” + +“On yon wall,” answered the boy, nodding in that direction. + +“Well, where did she go?” + +“Nowhere, till a gent comed along; then there wur a lot of huggin’ and +kissin’ an’ she went off with he.” + +Macpherson’s face was a study as he listened to this astounding +statement. He stood rooted to the spot, and from his six feet glowered +down on the malicious little imp in the road as if he could kill +him. The boy knew perfectly well that Macpherson was “sweet” on Miss +Apricot, and he thoroughly enjoyed imparting this information. He would +have been afraid to make up such a story, but since he had witnessed it +all and it was perfectly true and this great giant had asked him, he +was going to have the fun of telling him, on the same principle that he +egged on Farmer Smith’s dog to fight another dog and shook the bag when +he was carrying ferrets to make them attack each other. + +He was a little alarmed when Macpherson’s great paw came down heavily +on his shoulder. + +“You little rat! What sort of a man was it? Tell me that!” + +“I dunno,” said the boy sullenly, trying to shake himself free, “a kind +of a smart chap in a grey soot and hat.” + +“A grey suit and hat!” The light blazed in Macpherson’s dark eyes. He +shook the boy by the shoulder. + +“Was it Tony Morrison at the store?” + +“I dunno,” wailed the boy frightened now by the awful look of rage in +the man’s face and only anxious to get away. “I never go to the store, +muvver always goes.” + +Another frightful shake that made his teeth rattle. + +“Was it?” + +“I dunno. I never saw ’is face, only ’is back as he was a-kissin’ of +her. It mout be the store man, or it moutn’t.” + +“Little devil!” growled Macpherson, and with a final shake sent the boy +down on his hands and knees in the dust. Then he strode off up the road +at a tremendous pace, his blood on fire, his mind entirely made up. + +It was Tony, of course. He knew that absolutely. He was convinced of +it. The grey suit and hat, the smart appearance--who else in Fullingham +had that? It was Tony’s own particular property and asset. Besides, +had he not just heard at the store that Tony was gone sweethearting? +Of course it was all quite clear. Huggin’ and kissin’ his Apricot! +The thought of her darling velvet cheek that he himself so reverently +touched, her lovely smiling scarlet mouth, came to him and seemed to +add boiling oil to the raging flame within him. He would do for him! +He would kill him! He would break his back! The cur! The reptile! Who +all along had been carrying on with his girl and who was so smug and +so satisfied--always at the store so neat and clean, and always so +civil-spoken and so quiet! + +He had always rather liked Tony. There had been a great friendship +between the men only lately a little spoiled by the slumbering +suspicion in John’s mind that Tony might be “after his girl,” but Tony +had always been good to him personally and he always spoke of Apricot +to John as Miss Marten, which came back bitterly to John now. “I’ll +‘Miss Marten’ him when I catch him,” he said between his teeth. + +A hideous thing is jealousy, blinding its victim, deafening him alike +to the voice of conscience and the voice of reason hounding him on to +the scaffold and the grave. + +John Macpherson, good man, great soul, walked up the road that evening +with red murder in his heart. When he came to the cross-roads he +stopped and hesitated. Which way had they gone? + +He decided they must have taken the road to Riverside. It lay before +him so attractively beautiful all bathed in golden sheen; the road to +Hawley was up hill and in shadow. + +Before one reaches Riverside comes the wood, and as the road passes +into it there is a low stile. On this stile with his back to the road +and all unconscious of the desperate figure of vengeance striding +along it, sat a figure in grey. It was Tony, blissfully happy; full of +light-hearted innocent enjoyment swinging his legs to the tune he was +whistling. He was looking back to Riverside and was counting the kisses +shy little Bessie had given him that day, and thinking how sweet she +had looked when she promised to marry him. Now he was on his way home +to Fullingham and just pausing to rest on the stile and enjoy the sweet +calm and peace of this perfect evening which suited so well his happy +mood. + +Suddenly as John came along the road he caught sight of the grey back +rising above the stile and every drop of blood in John’s body turned +to raging flame. His ears caught the gay whistle. Apricot was nowhere +to be seen, but that was natural. She would be slinking home through +the woods by way of Riverside and back to her father’s cottage, where +she would turn up with the innocent look of the cat who has stolen the +cream. Well, nothing could be better. Apricot out of the way he could +deal all the more swiftly and better with his rival. + +Like a bull at a fence he rushed at the stile, and Tony was knocked off +and down on the ground, pinned under John’s hands at his throat before +he knew who had approached. + +“You weasel! You little devil! I’ll kill you!” John stormed, and +lifting the prostrate man by the neck dashed him down again with all +his force. There was a wide stone flag just under the stile to help +matters in the muddy wintertime, and on this flag Tony’s head came down +with a good bang. + +“What’s up?” he gasped, as well as he could with John’s suffocating +grip on his neck. “What’s this for, Mac?” + +“Huggin’ and kissin’!” ground out John between his teeth. “I’ll teach +you to come after my girl!” + +“I haven’t! I haven’t!” cried Tony. “Let up, Mac, let up! You’re mad.” + +“If I’m mad you’re dead. I’m going to kill you, you little beast!” +Bang! “Where were you this afternoon?” Bang! “Answer me that.” Bang! + +Tony’s lips were going white. His thoughts were scattered by the blows +on his head. He managed to gasp out: “Riverside! I’ve been to Bessie--I +haven’t seen your girl.” + +“You’re a good liar,” scoffed John. “You were seen huggin’ my girl and +I’ll see you never do again. Now go on with more of your lies.” Bang! +Bang! + +But Tony’s lying or speaking at all had come to an end. His face went +grey; his jaw dropped; his body fell limp in the fierce hands which +held him. + +John let him slide down and struggled to his feet. Instantly his rage +fell from him. He was face to face with the awful fact--he had killed a +man. + +Sane now, calm, his anger utterly spent and gone from him, John stood +panting there, looking about him. He was quite alone in the golden +evening; everything was exquisitely calm about him, a thrush near by +was pouring out his song, and the figure, a few moments before sitting +whistling on the stile, was now lying limp and motionless at his feet. +Those few moments of blind, dark rage had turned one man into a corpse, +the other into a murderer. + +Murder! It was hanging for that. + +A wild longing to undo what he had done possessed him. He went down on +his knees. + +“Tony!” he called. “What’s the matter with you? Tony, wake up!” But +the man lay still and grey before him. He undid his coat and felt his +heart; there was no movement. + +He passed his trembling arm under his head and raised him and put his +own face down close to see if any breath touched his cheek; but there +was none. Limp, nerveless, the body lay across the flagstone, seeming +to ask him, “What will you do with me now?” And John, wrapped in that +awful horror, that awful responsibility of his deed, rose from his +knees and stood shuddering by the stile. + +Then terror came and seized him. He must conceal his act. He must hide +the body. It must never be known he had murdered Tony. He might never +be discovered. If Tony’s body were found later, in the wood, what would +tie this deed to him, Macpherson? Tony might have been murdered by a +tramp in the wood. + +Shivering as if with mortal cold, John stooped over the body and +dragged it by the shoulders out of the path, and into the little wood. +Parting the flowering bushes by the side of the track, he pushed into +the thick undergrowth and there left the motionless form under some +wild azaleas. + +Then with, the cold, clammy fingers of his crime clinging to him, +unnerved and shaken, with his heart in a black terror, he crept out, a +criminal, from the shade of the trees and took the sunfilled road again. + +He looked all round the stile, but there was no trace of the crime +committed there. He brushed the white dust of the path from his own +clothes. Then he stood and listened. + +Not a sound to mar the lovely serenity of the golden air. Even the +thrush had finished his beautiful song and all was silence. + + * * * * * + +John Macpherson, the same in outward appearance, but within a +miserable, broken and craven man, entered the village pot-house as the +sunset faded and the moon grew brighter, and called for a glass of beer. + +When he got it he took it to one of the side benches, where he sat down +away from the rest of the company and swallowed it in silence. + +What an awful sense of guilt clung round him; but the man deserved it, +he kept telling himself. Why did he come sneaking round after another +man’s girl? If it ever came out that he had killed him, everyone would +allow that he had been sorely tried. As he sat there, black and moody, +with eyes fixed on the sawdust-covered floor, scraps of conversation +floated over to him from the bar where the men had gathered. He heard +nothing at first; then a sentence pierced his preoccupied brain. + +“Smart young fellow, wasn’t he? Did you see him, Bill?” + +And then Bill’s answer struck dully on his ears: + +“I just seed him go by. I was at the window there, an’ I looks up. +‘Why, there’s Tony, ses I’ bein’ as ’ow he was all togged up in grey. +And I calls out, ‘Tony!’ ’cos I wanted them bootlaces he promised me. +And the feller turns round and I couldn’t help larfin’, for it wasn’t +Tony at all, but this other chap.” + +There was a general laugh at Bill’s expense. + +“I could have told you Tony was off for the day. I met him going to +Riverside just after dinner-time.” + +“An’ what was this young feller doin’ down here, this London chap, I +mean?” came another question. + +“Oh, just walking through Fullingham, as they do, you know, to see the +country. He went up by Marten’s orchard last thing I see of him, going +to Hawley, for sure.” + +The talk drifted on then; but John Macpherson, seated near the open +door whence the delicious balmy air, heavy with the scent of new-mown +hay, came in and mixed with the beer and baccy of the bar, grew cold +with horror as he sat and heard. An icy conviction gripped him to his +inner being strangling him. + +_He had killed the wrong man!_ + +He knew it. He felt sure of it. Tony’s gasping words came back to him +backed up now so unexpectedly by this man at the bar. Tony had been +to Riverside, he had “gorn sweethearting” but to his own legitimate +property, his own girl. It was the other man in grey who--oh, the +horror of it! He’d go mad if he sat there another minute. He got +onto his feet and was just about to cross the threshold when another +phrase from the little knot of men arrested him. They had got onto a +prize-fight now. They were discussing it, as one of the men had seen +it in a neighboring town. + +“And there he lay, and nothin’ they could do seemed to bring him round. +I thought he was dead, sure. Then another bloke comes along, and +whether he tips brandy down ’is throat or what he does, I don’t know; +but up springs my fine fellow as gay as you please, and they sets to +again.” + +A sudden ray of hope seemed to split the darkness in John’s mind. +Suppose--suppose Tony was not quite dead? Oh! the wonderful joy of the +thought. Suppose, like that other man, he could come round! Oh, if such +a thing might happen now and let him out of this cold cell of terror +he seemed shut up in, he swore within himself he would never lift hand +against man, woman or child again! + +He had his whiskey-flask in his pocket. Full of a new determination he +turned and walked to the bar. + +“Six-penn’orth?” asked the barman, as John handed him the flask. + +“Fill it right up, man,” said John briefly. And when this was done and +paid for, he turned and went out without a word. + +The barman shook his head. “Macpherson looks bad to-night,” he remarked. + +“Bin drinkin’ perhaps; or p’raps that girl’s leading him a dog’s life. +She’s a termagant.” + +Outside John sped up the road, new hope, dim, faint uncertain, but +still hope glimmering in his heart. The full moon was up in a rich +purple sky, and the night was soft and full of beauty. But John could +see nothing. He felt the hangman’s cord about his neck, and for the +wrong man--the wrong man! + +All seemed quite still, calm as he had left it when he reached the +wood. The silvery light filtered gently through the leaves and fell on +his little path, showing him the way. + +He stepped aside to the clump of azaleas and pushed them back. There +lay the still body, just as he had left it. It had not stirred. + +With a thumping heart and a prayer on his lips John knelt beside it, +and raising the head pushed the neck of the open flask between the +pallid lips. + +There was no movement, but some seemed to go down the throat, but he +could not be sure. Then he got desperate, and getting his handkerchief +just soaked it in the spirit and rubbed it violently all over the man’s +face and eyes. + +“Tony man, wake up, I say!” he muttered, scrubbing his forehead with +the fiery spirit. + +At last, oh, God! that was a sigh! He was breathing! + +John’s hand trembled so that he nearly spilt the rest of the flask. + +Tony opened his eyes. + +“Why, what’s this?” he uttered faintly. “Where am I?” + +“Here, drink some more,” said John feverishly, tipping the flask up and +sending a fresh stream down Tony’s throat. + +He never touched spirits and it burnt him like fire. + +He sat up, John supporting him, and looked round. “Is that you, Mac?” +he said. “Oh, I remember. You nearly bashed me to death under the +stile. What’s it all about, Mac?” His voice was rather weakly; his eyes +wandered over John’s anxious face and then up to the tracery of boughs +over them. + +“It was all a mistake, Tony, and I am more sorry than I can say. But +you’re not hurt much, are you?” + +Tony was sitting up now. His face looked very white. His hat, carefully +picked up by Macpherson and put beside him under the azaleas, was there +still. His forehead looked damp, and the whiskey-soaked locks of hair +hung loose over it. He leaned his cheek on his hand as he answered: + +“I’ll have you up before the beak for this,” he said calmly. Tony was +mostly calm. + +“You won’t?” exclaimed John anxiously. + +“It’s six months’ hard for ’sault and battery, and it’s two years quod +for manslaughter,” remarked Tony. + +John felt a cold sweat break out on him. + +“But I’ve said it was a mistake,” he urged. “I thought it was you--” +Then he began to stammer. After all, Apricot was his girl and he was +not going to give her away. + +“Well, why didn’t you find out before you came and knocked me about?” +asked Tony in an aggrieved voice. “Spoiled my hat, too.” And he took it +out from the azaleas and smoothed its battered brim in his hands. + +“Look here, Tony,” said John desperately, “you must overlook this. Not +a word must come out. Say how I can make up to you and I’ll do it.” + +“There’s that fifty pounds you’ve saved up,” remarked Tony mildly, +still stroking his hat. + +John fell back flabbergasted. Fifty pounds! The savings of his whole +life! The sacred sum put by so that when it grew to a hundred he could +set up house with Apricot! + +“What do you mean?” he asked with trembling lips. + +“It won’t be nice doin’ hard for six months; and it’s two years if they +bring it in manslaughter.” + +“But I didn’t kill you, man! They can’t call it that!” + +“You meant to, though; and you nearly did me in. Oh, my head! it do +feel bad!” And Tony leant against a bush beside him and closed his eyes. + +John seized his flask and made him take another gulp. + +“You better take me home,” he said weakly. “I’d like to die in the old +house.” + +John was desperate. + +“Look here, Tony, if you don’t die and don’t say a word you shall have +the fifty, I promise you.” + +Tony straightened himself a little. + +“I’ll do my best, Mac,” he said feebly. “How soon can I have the money? +Soon as I’ve got it I’ll say I had a fit; then if I dies you’re safe, +anyway; and I’ll leave Bessie the fifty.” + +“You’re a cool one,” growled out John. “Fifty pounds is a lot of money, +Tony.” + +“Well, don’t pay it, don’t pay it, Mac. Maybe you’ll find it all right +in quod. Two years ain’t long, you know.” + +Cold shivers went down John’s spine. Prison for one of the Highland +Macphersons! And Apricot alone and unprotected for two years! She’d +never wait for him; nor would old Marten ever let him have his daughter +then. He knew Tony had some knowledge of the law. His grandfather had +been a solicitor in a small way, and on this account many were the +knotty points referred to Tony by the villagers. But he hated like +anything to lose his cherished fifty, and made another effort. + +“Look here,” he said, “I don’t see what’s to prevent my denying the +whole thing. It’s your word against mine.” + +Tony shook his head solemnly. “I’d have the truth on my side, and the +truth’s a fierce thing to be up against.” + +John considered. He felt that Tony was right. He could never stand up +and call God to witness that he had not laid a finger on Tony. He felt +he’d be struck dead or blind if he did. + +“An’ a man’s dying oath is always took in evidence,” added Tony in a +mournful tone. + +“How can it be a dyin’ oath if you don’t die?” + +“If I _think_ it’s my dyin’ oath it’s the same thing.” + +“’Spose it all comes out, anyway?” + +“Can’t,” said Tony, sitting up and speaking with more vigour. “I’f I +gets your fifty I’m mum unless I feels like dyin’. If it’s that way, +I’ll say I have had a fit; and if I say it’s a fit, a fit it is.” + +John gave in. “All right,” he said with a long sigh. “I’ll get you the +money to-night. Now let’s get back.” + +He assisted Tony to his feet and put his battered hat on his head. + +“Oh, it do ache!” groaned Tony. + +“That’s all the whiskey you’ve drunk,” returned John unsympathetically. + +“Maybe it is, and maybe it’s the bashing it’s had,” returned Tony. And +after that, in silence, the two men emerged from the wood onto the +moonlit road. + +John walked along in black gloom, pondering alternately on his lost +fifty and on Apricot. + +He wondered if she had walked as far as Hawley with the stranger; if +she had got back home by now; if there was the smallest chance of his +seeing her to-night. He thirsted for the touch of her red lips to +console him for all he had suffered in emotion that day. + +Oddly enough he did not feel angry with her. It is a curious point of +ethics with the lower classes that what is done with a gentleman does +not count. There is not considered to be anything serious about it; +it’s only “a bit of a lark”; and while the thought of Tony supplanting +him had filled him with red fury against him, he had nothing at all +against the gentleman from town who had stolen a kiss from his girl in +passing through the village. In fact, far away in the recesses of his +heart there burnt a spark of pride that Apricot’s beauty could not be +resisted by anyone. + +The two men reached the village with hardly a word exchanged, Tony +occasionally stopping to lean on his companion’s arm. + +John left him at the store and went dolefully enough to fetch the price +of his folly. He brought over the small tin box in which he had saved +it and added to it through so many years, and put it into the other’s +hands in the back bedroom behind the shop. He could not bear to see it +counted out by the smiling Tony, but with a hoarse mutter of: “It’s all +there. Mind you keep your word, durn you!” he hurried away. + +The night was exquisitely lovely, full of sweet scents, and all the +whispers of Summer in the air. He walked past Marten’s orchard and +looked longingly up to the wall where the trees hung their branches +heavy with fruit over the top. + +But there was no one to be seen, and finally he walked away +disconsolately back to the farm. + +All the next day he longed to see Apricot; but it was not till the +evening when all the village was dipped in soft violet shadows that he +at last met her, just as she was coming out of the store. She looked so +lovely his heart rose in a great bound, and he threw his arm around her +and pressed his lips into the side of her creamy neck. + +“What you been to the store for?” he asked jealously. + +“Only for a bit of ribbon; but I stopped to talk to Tony. Oh, John! +Think! He’s going to marry Bessie Smith in a month, and he’s got fifty +pounds to start housekeeping! Some folks do save wonderful, don’t they?” + +“Yes, and some has things given ’em,” said John savagely. “But we’ll +be getting married, too. What would you say if I put the banns up +to-morrow?” + +Apricot lifted two soft arms and put them about his neck. They were +sheltered by an old oak that grew near the store, and there was no one +to see. Her upturned face and glowing eyes looked very fair and sweet +in the dusk. + +She loved her John and meant to marry him, and no one else in this +world, but walks and talks like yesterday’s with the stranger were very +great fun and she was afraid they might be few and far when she was +Mrs. Macpherson. Her scarlet mouth closed on John’s as she murmured +back: + +“I think I’d say, John dear, don’t be so hasty!” + + + + + SUPPING WITH THE DEVIL + + + CHAPTER 1 + + +“Here, Jenkins, take this animal!” And the body of the dog from which +one foreleg had been cut away was thrown into the arms of the new +laboratory attendant. + +The dog was screaming wildly and some of its blood splashed upon +Jenkin’s white smock frock and some into his no less white face. The +great scientist Sir Charles Smith-Brown Bart. Dsc. F.R.C.S. etc., etc., +was at work in his laboratory and his new attendant was assisting him. + +It was Sunday morning and the Great Man was rather afraid he might be +made late for church by the bungling slowness of his subordinate. + +“Throw him into the trough, man, don’t stand there staring and clamp +down his paws so that he can’t move, the three he’s got left anyway,” +he added with a little chuckle. Sir Charles was always cheerful and +pleasant at his work. Jenkins turned, lowered the dog into the trough +on his back and taking each leg fastened it into the iron clamp +provided on each side. The dog was screaming in agony and Jenkins’ +fingers trembled as he did the clamps and turned his head away that +he might not see the beseeching terror in the animal’s eyes. It did +not seem right somehow. He had fed the little spaniel last night and +thought what a jolly little beast it was, frisking round him, and +caressing him with its soft nose and tongue. This Sunday morning’s work +did not seem right to him, but then he was a new hand, only having been +engaged last night and having had his duties described to him as “the +care of animals.” + +“Now then have you got him fixed?” asked the great man, coming up +behind him, with a keen looking knife in his hand. With this he pointed +to the dog’s head. + +“Bind his jaws and clamp the head, that’s right. Now my friend--” the +great man leant over the trough in which the dog lay rigid, helpless, +extended on its back, its legs clamped to the sides of the trough, wide +apart. Jenkins turned away and stared stolidly at the piece of bright +blue sky that appeared above the frosted panes of the lower part of the +window. + +The dog unable to scream with its bound jaws could still moan and a +groaning moan of direct agony came to Jenkins’ ears as the great man +bent over the trough. + +When he looked round he saw there was a great gash all down the chest +and stomach, laying bare the inside, and in the open cavity the +scientist was fumbling with both hands. + +“There now that’ll do for the present,” he said cheerily as he withdrew +them, covered with blood, and wiped them briskly on a towel, “I shall +have to be off to church now or I shall be late.” + +“And what about the dog, Sir?” + +“Oh, I’ll leave him like that. I always do. Let ’em cool off a bit you +know,” again the pleasant laugh. “Then I’ll have at him again after +lunch.” + +He was taking off his white smock in which he worked and revealed +himself well dressed underneath. He walked to the wash handstand with +its fine brass taps and washed his hands carefully. Then he went into +the hall outside where his frock-coat and tall hat were hanging. +Jenkins followed him eyeing him uneasily. + +“Of course, Sir,” he began rather hesitatingly, “I’m new to this kind +of work and p’raps I don’t understand it, but isn’t it a bit cruel?” + +The great man had slipped on his fine well made coat over his large +comfortable self and was just settling above his eyebrows his very +polished new silk hat. He looked back pleasantly at the nervous, +puckered face of his subordinate. + +“My dear Jenkins you decidedly are new to it, very: but I trust you +will improve in time.” He took off his pince-nez and held them lightly +in one hand, as he was wont to do when addressing a class. “But I +don’t like these signs of squeamishness. Now I’ll just ask you a few +questions. You don’t know anything about Scientific Research do you?” + +“No, Sir,” returned Jenkins humbly. + +“Well, then,” pursued his employer genially, “you must remember +Scientific Research is a very noble work and that’s what I am doing +here, a very noble work,” he repeated, “read the daily papers, they are +always saying so.” Here he waved his pince-nez airily and smiled. + +Jenkins was not an adept at analysing sarcasm but as he looked at the +smiling doctor and heard his pleasant tones, he had a vague idea that +the big man was “making game of him.” + +“Then another thing is its all for the benefit of humanity. Now +remember that, Jenkins, because it’s a useful phrase, the benefit of +humanity. I am working for the benefit of humanity. You must get that +well in your head. All you saw this morning, all you will see here +while you are with me is all for the benefit of humanity, see?” + +Jenkins feeling himself confused and baffled by the smiling eyes and +suave tones, tried to keep hold of his point. + +“Still it is cruel, isn’t it, Sir?” he mumbled. + +“Cruel?” repeated the Doctor with a shade of impatience. “Certainly +_not_. Supposing it were cruel what an uproar there would be! +You know what a lot of churches there are, all full of God-fearing +clergymen, good holy men. Would they allow it if it were cruel? Of +course not. They would denounce it in their sermons but they never say +a word against it. They uphold it. To-day for instance all the London +churches are full of these good men talking themselves hoarse, telling +us all what we must not do, but you won’t find one saying we must not +pursue our researches.” + +“P’raps they don’t know what you are a doin’ of,” blurted out Jenkins +and then paused alarmed at what his employer would think of his +boldness, but Sir Charles only laughed gently. + +“Oh, yes, they do,” he said. “We tell them often enough in our books +and our medical papers. But they see the aim, my dear Jenkins, unlike +you I am afraid. They see how noble, how important our work is. They +see how important, how immensely valuable, how necessary it is, in +fact, to humanity, to know that monkeys can have measles!” he broke off +laughing and Jenkins felt again the big man was making fun of him. Sir +Charles did not seem to mind now being late for church. He was amused +at the poor simple ignorant fellow before him and he liked the feeling +that he could confuse him with his big words and twist him round his +finger. + +Jenkins stood blinking for a moment in silence. The little spaniel’s +agonised moaning came from the room behind him and filled his ears +making a curious undertone to the light banter of the man before +him. Sir Charles was a great believer in propaganda and never let go +an opportunity of sowing the good seed. He was a little afraid that +sooner or later an infuriated populace might turn against him and his +colleagues and put a stop to those practices for which now they so +meekly and conveniently paid: so seeing Jenkins still appeared somewhat +obdurate he continued more seriously. + +“Just think a minute. There’s the whole country! England! You love +England, don’t you, Jenkins? Fought for it, eh?” + +“Yes, Sir, I do,” replied Jenkins fervently. His whole face lighted up. + +“Well, now England’s in the forefront of all humanitarian projects. +Won’t have bull fights, stopped cock fights, sends men to prison for +throwing a cat out of a window, would _England_ allow this work of +ours to go on, if it were cruel? No she would stop it. Would she tax +her people to give us little gifts of 500,000 pounds for Research if it +were cruel? Certainly not. Are you a taxpayer, Jenkins?” + +“I must be, Sir. We’re all taxed.” + +“Just so. Then here in the laboratory you’ll have the satisfaction +of seeing how your money is spent for you. Money, Jenkins, it takes +money, the noble work. Sixty thousand animals more or less go through +the laboratories every year in England. Expensive ones too, some of +them: it takes money, _your_ money, see?” Here the doctor gave his +victim a playful little dig in the side. “Now I really must run off. +Don’t you bother your head about these things. Just remember what I say +that England’s a splendidly humane country and couldn’t allow anything +brutal to be done and don’t forget too how awfully important it is to +know that monkeys have measles!” + +Before his confused listener could make any remark the doctor had +walked down the passage, passed through the door and banged it behind +him. + +Sir Charles walked down the road and across the straggling bit of +waste ground that surrounded his laboratory, with a pleased expression +on his face. One of his favorite experiments was to batter a dog to +death slowly with repeated blows, making notes during the operation, +of the time necessary to produce insensibility and the further time to +produce actual extinction. It was always an interesting experiment to +his highly scientific mind and he felt in some degree as if he had been +practicing in the same way on Jenkins’ mind. He thought with a smile it +would not take long in his laboratory to batter to death all Jenkins’ +funny little ideas about cruelty. + +Jenkins, left standing in the hall, remained there as if transfixed. +He felt as if the whole thing must be some horrible nightmare and that +he would wake up in a minute in his country cottage with the sound of +clucking hens outside, instead of that awful moaning from the room +behind him. + +What sort of hell was this that he had dropped into? + +You see Jenkins lacked a scientific education which enables a man +to see that black is really white and so on. Jenkins was only just +an average ordinary man so he must be excused if Sir Charles’ most +beautifully kept and perfectly appointed laboratory with all the latest +scientific appliances for giving monkeys measles and kindred noble +work, appeared to him a hell. + +How had he got into it? + +Seeing by chance that scrap of paper and the advertisement that a man +was wanted to take charge of animals, he had applied for the place, +because he was fond of animals, and got it. + +He had arrived last night and been shown his quarters. He had also +been shown a room with four healthy happy dogs in it in kennels round +the walls. He had been told to feed them and keep them clean which work +he had joyfully accepted. The dogs had jumped round him in delight +recognizing a friend and he had spent most of his evening with them, +cleaning out the kennels which seemed to be old ones that had been +used for many occupants before these four had been put into them. His +work done he had passed through a passage with closed doors on all +sides of him and up the long flight of stairs at the end of it, to his +own two rooms, on an upper floor. These seemed cosy enough and he had +slept well. In the early morning he had been roused by the unearthly +screaming of a dog and fearing some accident had happened to one of his +charges, he bolted down to the room where he had left them overnight. + +Finding only three scared looking animals there, he had followed the +terrible scream down the passage, opened the door that faced him +and come straight in on the scene of one of the doctor’s scientific +operations. Jenkins being unscientific failed to see any trace of +beauty and nobleness in the work before him. He only saw a perspiring +man in a blood stained smock holding a dog who was shrieking like a +human person in the extreme of pain and terror. He understood nothing, +he vaguely thought there must be some accident and his help was needed. + +He rushed forward. “Oh, Sir--” + +The scientist looked up. His face was working, his eye glaring. + +“Damn you, you fool, what do you come here for when I’m at work? Get +out. Get out!” he repeated as Jenkins did not stir. “And never come +here unless I ring for you.” + +Jenkins turned on shaking legs and got out of the room somehow, +shutting the door tightly behind him. Then he walked down the passage +to the room where the live dogs were, entered and shut that door too +and stood with his back against it facing his charges. Yesterday they +had jumped up to him. Now they stood still, looking at him askance. +Their ears pricked listening to those frightful screams. Then he went +into the middle of the room and sat down on a wooden chair and buried +his face in his hands with a groan. He couldn’t yet make much head or +tail of it all but one thing was certain. The man in the other room was +cutting up a dog alive. A dog who had been well and happy last night. +It had been taken from among these out of this room and by inference +these others were awaiting the same fate. And they knew it: he +stretched out his hands to them and after a time they came up to him; +not as last night capering and joyous, but cowering and whimpering, +sidling up to him pleading for a protection they felt by instinct he +could not give. He had put his arms round them and so they sat grouped +together the man and the terrified dogs listening to those horrible +cries. He did not know how long he sat there but after a time a church +bell clanged out a few harsh strokes and after that the doctor’s bell +had sounded summoning him to his duties. Now the great man had departed +and he was left in the hallway to think over his first lesson in +applied Science. + +Jenkins was not an educated man, but he had a good clear mind capable +of adjusting itself to new situations. He was, besides, what we all +understand by a good man. He had those simple sincere rules of conduct +that make the useful citizen. He had his own very definite ideas of +right and wrong and lived up to them. He thought it was right to pay +your way, to help your neighbour whenever possible, to work hard and +mind your own business. He thought it wrong to lie, steal or murder, to +cheat or injure another in any way, or to abuse the helpless and the +weak. That was his simple code and it had served him very well the 38 +years of his hard-working life. He saw now chance had flung him into a +place where what seemed to him scandalous infamies were carried on and +his first impulse was to flee from it, as one would from any plague +spot: make a clean bolt of it and forget that such a place existed. But +he checked the impulse as cowardly. No, here he was suddenly up against +something he did not in the least understand. It was his duty to try +to master it and see what it all meant. He perceived very clearly that +however gross the evil existing here it was one legally protected and +upheld. He remembered he had once called in a policeman to stop a man +beating a dog: nothing of that sort would avail here, that was evident. +The doctor was quite confident and easy in his mind apparently and +while the exterior of the place looked squalid and desolate situated in +its ragged waste land, the interior was fitted up with every comfort +and even luxury. Electric lights and lamps and telephones were in +every room he had seen. Beyond the outlying position, there seemed no +special secrecy or concealment about the place: No: somehow or other, +he could not think how, but _somehow_ this man was _allowed_ +to do what he was doing. Allowed as he had said, by the country, by the +laws, by the church, by his fellows, to do these atrocities. His blood +boiled within him. Again came the temptation to bolt but the thought +of the animals held him. His fighting spirit was up but he could do +nothing until he knew more about what sort of a hell he was in. He +must explore. He walked down the softly carpeted hallway away from the +door, towards the staircase end and opening the first door he came to +at the side entered the apartment. It was long and narrow. No carpet +here: on the floor only bare tessellated black and white tiles. There +were windows high up in the walls: below these ranged against each +side of the room were iron cages. The light fell coldly from above and +there was a faint foul odour in the air that belied the appearance of +aggressive brightness and cleanliness of the whole place. There was a +row of iron cages on each side all down the long room and from these +rose a continuous low moaning sound which seemed to chill his blood. He +looked at the cages: each one was occupied by a mutilated or diseased +animal: most of them turning, swaying and moaning in direst agony in +their cramped quarters: others crouching motionless with staring eyes, +frozen images of despair. Jenkins turned to the first cage on his +right. It contained a retriever blinded in both eyes from the sockets +of which oozed blood and matter. He was sitting on his haunches on the +bare iron floor of his cage in which he could just turn round, that was +all: the bars at the top almost touched his head. + +Jenkins stopped and spoke gently to him. The dog raised his ears a +little at the unaccustomed sound and threw up his great gentle glossy +head with the most piteous long drawn howl that Jenkins had ever heard. +Its accent of unutterable woe was such that no human voice could +achieve. It said as plainly as words, “Oh, let me out of my prison +house, let me die and escape.” + +Jenkins eyes filled. He spoke again and put his hand through the bars +and stroked the dog’s shoulder and the sightless face turned towards +his hand and the dog’s hot nose pushed into it with another long drawn +pleading howl. + +Jenkin’s looked at the little white enamelled tablet beneath the cage +and read: + +“March 1st--Eyes removed.” The date was a fortnight back! With a +sickening feeling half benumbing him, Jenkins passed to the next cage. +Here was a ghastly creature that once had been a dog, staring with +glaring eyes through the bars. It took no notice. It’s agony appeared +to be so appalling that it was mute and rigid with it. + +Jenkins stooped and read: + +“Tumour (artificial) on brain. Experiment commenced February 15.” The +next cage held a small spaniel puppy with a hugely bloated body that +was twisting and writhing in every conceivable position. It’s tongue +was hanging out, foam was pouring from its mouth, its eyes bulging from +its head, it gave short scream of agony at intervals and threw itself +against the bars of its cage. + +Jenkins felt it was not mad. Out of the large protruding brown eyes +looked not insanity: only terror and wonder at its own awful suffering. + +Jenkins read on the cage: + +“Virus introduced into stomach.” There was no date. + +In the next cage the occupant lay at the point of death. It was a small +dog: the floor of its cage was one pool of blood. Where one of its ears +should have been gaped a huge hole from which blood was still running. +Its head had been apparently bandaged. Its paws evidently tied together +but in its madness of pain it had torn away its bonds. Now it lay still +on its side. Its mouth open gasping, its eyes staring, too weak to move +or cry. _Dying at last._ + +Jenkins read: + +“Ear removed. New ear grafted. February 1st.” + +A month and a half it had been there! + +Jenkins crept on down the middle path between the row: feeling weak +and cold as he went. Each cage seemed to him more horrible than the +last. Of some the contents are indescribable. Beneath some ran the +legend--“Starving Experiments.” And in these the dogs lay rough-haired, +motionless, their bones almost through their skin, their eyes glazed +and the dates ranged from January. + +After the dog cages came cats, cats and kittens in all stages of +mutilation with their small red tongues showing in their gasping mouths +that let out faint little cries for mercy. After these, monkeys and +here underneath Jenkins read: + +Measles induced at various early dates. + +He paused here looking at the suffering creatures, shivering and +crouching on the bare zinc floors of their cells and his face grew +strangely dark as he recalled the scientist’s smiling words: “It’s so +beneficial to humanity to know that monkeys can have measles!” + +His feet crept on again. He felt he could hardly move them but he +determined to see it all. Other monkeys had suffered such frightful +injuries he could hardly recognize what they were. Their wizened +anguished little faces were pressed against the bars. They clung there +whining and chattering. Some without eyes, some without ears, some +with huge lumps in their throats that they continually pulled at with +trembling paws. Then the cages ended. He had come to the end of the row +and he saw in front of him a round zinc cylinder-shaped receptacle, +just like in appearance the ash barrels seen in back yards. He +noticed, however, this had perforated holes in the lid. He lifted this +off and down at the bottom of the barrel lay a collie dog. + +He called to it and it lifted its head apathetically and gazed up with +dull eyes. It was very, very emaciated: just its coat seemed covering +its skeleton. Jenkins put down both his arms into the barrel and very +gently lifted the dog out bodily and set it on the ground. It lay just +where he set it, crumpled up. Then he raised it and spoke to it. The +dog apparently tried to respond and moved but as it got on its feet it +turned and turned and turned in an endless awful circle. It could not +do otherwise. Its head bent down at a queer angle, its legs quivering, +its tail and ears hanging, its eyes lifeless, its bones sticking in +places through its rough hair, it turned and turned on the same small +spot of ground till it sank exhausted. + +Jenkins read: + +“Portion of brain removed. Interesting circular movement induced.” And +the date was _two years before the present time_. + +Jenkins straightened himself, the distorted creature crouching, silent +at his feet. + +“And this is _England_!” he said half aloud. + +Impossible to cure, to help, to alleviate any of this suffering. +Impossible to bestow the last boon of death on these sad helpless +beings. For if he freed any of these, new ones would be put in their +place. + +With his heart heaving, and beating in a tumult of fury, he bent and +very tenderly lifted the skeleton collie in his arms, held it for a +moment against him and spoke to it gently. Then lowered it back into +its awful prison house and replaced the lid. + +Then shivering as if with mortal cold he dragged himself on a few paces +to the end of the room where there was a small gas fire burning and an +arm chair drawn up by it. He sank into this and put his hands to the +fire. This was the doctor’s end of the apartment. A screen shut it off +from the long line of cages. A square of warm carpet covered the bare +tiles on the floor. A small table with some paper and-note books and +a shaded lamp stood in front of the fire. Jenkins sat in the doctor’s +chair listening to the moaning of unspeakable pain that filled all the +air, low and desolate and hopeless, and shuddered. + +When the feeling of physical illness had worn off a little, he rose to +his feet and retraced his steps down the long avenue of cages. He could +not bear to look at them again but kept his gaze resolutely in front of +him. He knew he could do nothing to help the hapless tortured inmates. +His duties were to clean out the cages and to feed and water and wait +upon the healthy animals. He was not allowed to interfere with the +animals under experiment. If he overstepped his limit by the very least +he saw he would be thrown out at once and he was bent upon staying. He +felt quite clearly he was face to face with some momentous evil that +was vast and far-reaching and of which he could not read the meaning. +He could not grapple with it for he did not fully yet understand +what it was but he would be patient, he would be calm, he would be +self-controlled, he would watch and study and wait and then perhaps he +could do something. But infinite caution would be necessary: no rash +step, no giving way to raging impulses of anger and indignation would +serve him here nor help those tortured prisoners. “Who sups with the +devil must have a long spoon” and he felt he was now the guest of the +devil, indeed. + +He got out of the apartment at last and closed the door after him. He +went down the hallway and listened at the small laboratory door behind +which he knew the dog was lying clamped in the trough. The moaning had +ceased. There was no sound now. Jenkins crept on up the stairs to his +own top floor rooms. Before commencing the flight he first noticed +another door on his left which he had not opened. He read on it in +passing on a small plate, Lethal Chamber. He dragged himself up the +stairs and finally reached his own little rooms at the top: with which +he had been so pleased the night before. Only the night before and it +seemed he had lived through an age of misery since then. He entered his +own little sitting room, bolted the door after him and then sat down at +the table, his head in his hands, a broken man. His beliefs, faiths, +ideals, were all shattered and fell from him leaving him naked and +alone. + +This was England; These things were done in England, allowed, approved +of, and he had loved England, believed in it, fought for it. Did he +love it now? No. Would he fight for it and offer his life again for +it? No. He had believed in God. He had loved him. Not all the war and +the suffering and the horror of it had shaken his belief in Him. Did +he believe in Him now? Love Him? No. There could be no loving, good, +all-powerful being who could look down on that laboratory and that man +who worked there and not shrivel them both to nothing. A God there +might be, but if these things pleased Him then He must be evil. If they +did not please Him He must be as powerless as Jenkins himself to stop +them. + +Perhaps it was that. Perhaps there was a spirit of good but perhaps it +could not work alone, perhaps it needed human co-operation. This was +a new thought to Jenkins and it give a little light to the broken and +dejected man. + + + CHAPTER 2 + + +Day after day went slowly by and Jenkins toiled along the painful road +of life into which he had been so suddenly brought, bearing his burden +of grief and pain and learning, learning all the time. Every hour he +saw further into and through the mist of horror that surrounded him. He +learnt greedily. He felt it was vitally necessary to learn everything +about this terrible wrong that he saw being committed, if he wished in +any way to remedy it. To fight a thing successfully you must know what +it is: you must know what you are fighting. + +He saw many volumes on the doctor’s bookshelves and asked permission to +read them which was genially accorded him. + +“You’ll find things to stagger you in them,” Sir Charles said +pleasantly, “and lots of hard words. I don’t think you’ll get very +far with them.” But Jenkins did get much farther than the doctor +thought. He found the books were mostly volumes written by scientific +men describing their own work, records of experiments they had made +on living animals set out in full by themselves. And in spite of the +stupid jargon of words surrounding them and the heavy language Jenkins +saw that two things stood out very plainly, one, the hideous suffering +of the animals thus used, the other the absolute uselessness and +senselessness of the experiments as far as regarded Humanity. They were +very enlightening books and so Jenkins found them. Then there was a big +scrap book compiled by the doctor himself, that led Jenkins far along +the road of understanding. This book contained newspaper cuttings of +all descriptions bearing in any way on medical life and work. + +Reports of coroners’ inquests especially those where the conduct of +a doctor or nurse had been called in question and where invariably +they had been triumphantly cleared by the coroner (usually himself a +doctor) and votes of sympathy extended to them. These passages had +been underscored with a red pencil and often a note of exclamation +added to them, by the old cynic who had pasted them in. There were +many announcements of wonderful cures and these were starred by a blue +pencil and many pages further on in cuttings of a later date Jenkins +would find these “cures” contradicted and dismissed as worthless hoaxes +and a blue star was put against these also. Then there were long +panegyrics on medical science in general and underneath these were +mostly pencilled notes by the doctor, “Written by Smith,” “Good old +Ted,” “Very good Charlie,” “That’s the stuff to give ’em,” and so on. +Then there were pictures of Royalty opening hospital wards: Royalty +going to balls in aid of hospitals, etc., and side by side with these, +accounts of patients who had jumped from hospital windows: patients who +had died on the operating table, patients who having lost their limbs +or their sight by the mistreatment in hospitals went back to their +garrets to hang themselves or gas themselves to death. Sometimes these +columns were marked by exclamation marks, some times the juxtaposition +was left to speak for itself. Jenkins could just imagine the face of +the doctor with his tongue in his cheek, as he glued the cuttings in. + +Jenkins spent many hours hanging fascinated over this volume. + +From the vivisectors’ own books he learnt what vivisection really was, +from the reports in the papers he learnt what the public thought it +was and how they were assiduously taught by the press to regard it and +medical science generally. + +Then there were other means of self education, one of the best +of which though the most painful was listening to the doctor’s +conversation and that of his friends on those evenings when the great +man had some friends or some young students in to visit him. Jenkins +would be called upon to wait on them at a light supper with heavy +drinks which they took in the doctor’s study. + +Jenkins as has been said was not a scientific person, he was simply a +man of common sense and the way those scientific men talked, the utter +brutality and callousness of their jokes, their stories, their whole +view of the sufferings of humanity, the confessions they made or rather +perhaps one should say the boasts, of how they had acted in their +hospital wards, made his blood run cold. + +One thing he saw, emerged very clearly and restored somewhat to his +mind the belief in eternal Justice. He saw that this Scientific +Research, so unutterably wicked and cruel to the animals, was at the +same time proving an unspeakable curse to humanity. + +As he heard the talk of reckless experiments on patients unnecessary +operations, over-doses of _X_-ray that burnt human insides out, and the +joking and laughter over human agony, he recognized that Humanity +was being justly punished and that the men, degraded by horrible +experiments on animals were totally unfitted to have the care of sick +and helpless men and women. + +One night climbing to his room after attendance at one of these suppers +and listening to the revolting talk, he went to bed, white and dizzy +and shaking. In the darkness and stillness a question seemed to form +itself within him and he examined it carefully bringing all the +knowledge he had gained to bear upon it. + +Ought he to kill this man? + +Murder! That would be murder: a horrible idea, a horrible thought, a +horrible word to the well-balanced, civilized mind; and to Jenkins, +sober and straight-living, the typical good citizen without a trace of +criminality in his disposition it was appalling. + +Murder! No! On no account must one murder. It was an essentially +wrong, unpardonable act. But would it be murder? he asked himself +in his clear, hard-thinking though uneducated mind. Would it not be +justifiable homicide? Let him consider. He must consider this question +from all points. Here he was on the verge of a decision to commit an +act forbidden by the law of his country, regarded with detestation by +his fellows and condemned by religion. He would take the point of law +first. The law allowed justifiable homicide. If that were the verdict, +the accused was acquitted with honour. + +On what grounds was that verdict given when one man killed another? +First, self-defence. If the doctor attacked him and he feared his own +life was in danger, he might kill the doctor with impunity. _His own +life._ He might kill the doctor to save his own life. + +Then why not to save something he valued much more highly? To save +from agonising suffering those thousand of helpless innocent loving +animals that the doctor would torture during his evil life? _Jenkins’ +life_, what was that? Like all brave natures he had hardly a +thought for it. A run-away horse, a woman in a canal, a child on a +railway track, any of these might call for and receive its sacrifice +at any time. Certainly to save even that one line of animals in the +laboratory, slowly perishing in their long drawn out anguish he would +have laid down his life, had that been able to help matters. + +Therefore, if the law allowed him to murder to save his own life, +why should it not allow him to murder to save something he valued +infinitely more? Jenkins revolved this anxiously and slowly in his +sedate mind till he came to the conclusion that the law should permit +him this choice. + +Then he took up another point: the law would certainly call it +justifiable homicide if he saw the doctor murdering a man, woman or +child, any human being, even an imbecile, and killed him in defence of +any of those. Then why should he not kill him to save those thousands +of poor patients that the doctor would certainly murder if allowed +to live out his evil life to its natural close? Only that evening he +had heard him saying to a student that he had performed a certain +operation three thousand times and it had never done any good: only +killed or crippled. Jenkins shuddered as he thought of the mutilated +victims dragging out their ruined lives; women who had come to the +doctor full of hope and faith and had been sent away according to his +own statement, shattered wrecks. _But what could they expect?_ +How could they come to a man for sympathy or expect him to be moved or +restrained by any decent feeling when he spent his whole life wallowing +in the most frightful mutilation of animals? + +Jenkins marvelled at their folly. + +But he must get back to his point as to the law. The law would allow +him to kill the doctor if he were murdering _one_ woman, then why +not when he was murdering thousands? Again, there was that paragraph +in a daily paper stating that a certain serum had been “successfully +tried on 300 children.” What about all the children on whom it had been +unsuccessfully “tried”? + +Jenkins seemed for a moment to see round him a plain covered with the +small graves of children, done to death by the modern Moloch--Science. +He would save the lives of many human victims as well as the animal +victims if he extinguished this one evil existence. + +Since Jenkins had come to the laboratory he had not seen one single +useful experiment made, one single operation that might be excused by +some people on the ground of its utility. He had seen cats filled with +water till they burst, of what good is that to humanity? He had seen +dogs distorted by rickets, and dogs put into boxes which were gradually +heated while the doctor watched the animals inside through a glass +window panting and writhing without water or air. He had seen the dogs +dragged out in a desperate condition and expire within half an hour. +How was humanity benefited? He had seen monkeys suffering cruelly from +measles, to what end? He had seen animals covered with tar expiring in +lingering agonies. What was the use? + +He had seen the doctor take a clear eyed, healthy cat and deliberately +induce an ulcer in one eye and watch it day by day, eating the organ +away and when the work of destruction was complete he would set up an +ulcer in the other eye, encouraged apparently rather than the reverse +by its heartrending screams of pain and finally throw it back into its +cage in total blindness and convulsions of agony. And the results? What +had the Scientists to show? + +A few of their vaunted remedies passed in review before him: + +Insulin which the Scientists admitted amongst themselves to be more +deadly than the diabetes it was supposed to cure. + +Anti-toxin for diphtheria, dangerous and unknown as to its after +effects while the simple Bella Donna was a known specific for the +disease. The inoculation of anti-typhoid serum used in the war. Jenkins +had been to the war and he knew that where the sanitation had been +good, there had been no typhoid. Where the sanitation had been bad +the anti-typhoid serum had not saved the troops. Typhoid had reigned +in spite of it. And so on, and so on. In the whole long list of +“discoveries” and “remedies” emanating from laboratories there was not +one that he could find that had been proved of benefit, not one for +which a simple common-sense substitute could not be found. + +Useful, beneficial, good--any of this work? No, it was simply hellish +and having seen it as he had at close quarters and recognising it for +what it was, it was his duty to stop it in the only way he could. + +It would not be murder, it would be homicide and justifiable a hundred +times over. + +Anger carried him away for a moment but he brought his thoughts back +to calm consideration. What good would it do? The removal of this one +man? Very little, he admitted sorrowfully. But it seemed to him, in the +phrase of the war: “it was his bit.” + +How often in the recruiting days the men had been told they were not to +worry over the larger aspects, the greater issues of the war. They were +not to say to themselves that the little which each man could do would +not either win or lose the war. No, each man was to do “his bit.” If he +killed one German it was good. If he killed ten, it was better. And if +he shrank from killing a fellow man he was to remember that by so doing +he was saving the lives of perhaps hundreds of his comrades. + +The same reasoning seemed to apply here. He could not do much. He could +not sweep away that cancer of modern civilization--medical scientific +research. He could not influence the ending of it, any more than he +could influence the ending of the war, but he could do his bit. He +could kill this one man and by so doing save thousands of his fellow +human beings and thousands of his no less fellow beings--the animals. + +The human beings, really, Jenkins doubted if it were his mission to +save. If they could be so blind, so stupid, so selfish and so cruel as +to allow such work as the doctor’s, because they fancied they might +gain something from it, it was only Divine Justice that they should be +poisoned by the medicines manufactured so hideously. That the Insulin +gained by the torture of dogs; the anti-toxins brought by the agony of +horses; the small-pox vaccine scooped from the aching sores of cows and +all the other vile and filthy products of the laboratory should give +them death and disease instead of the relief they sought. + +But for the sake of the animals, entirely innocent, unselfish, +trusting, devoted, that this fiend would torture daily, year by year, +if he lived, for their sake, Jenkins would “do his bit” and save them. + +The next morning he rose, his head clear, his heart stout and +determined. He had been sent there for some good reason and he seemed +to see it clearly before him as Joan of Arc saw her mission revealed to +her. + +Possessing himself in patience, he would watch and wait till the +opportunity came to take the doctor’s life and then he would take it +as Jael slew Sisera, as Judith slew Holofernes. How many lives had he +taken in the war? He could not remember but it must have been many: +lives of good honest brave men fighting for their country as he was +fighting for his, then should he hesitate now to take a life so mean, +so worthless, so harmful not only to his fellow creatures the animals +but also to his fellow men? Why should he not rid the world of this +monster? A great calmness fell upon Jenkins as he made his resolve and +from that hour, though he lived in pain, he had the courage lent him, +of a man devoted to a cause. + + + CHAPTER 3 + + +It was a Saturday evening and an evil-looking man stood at the door, +when Jenkins opened it to a modest ring. He had a large black bag which +bulged and looked heavy in his hand. + +“A fine cat, mister,” he whispered hoarsely, “only two bob, hand over +and let me go.” + +Jenkins took the bag and loosening the string at its mouth looked down +into it. At the bottom was a soft mass of handsome-looking fur from +which a faint mew came as the cat saw Jenkins’ face at the top of the +bag. It was evidently very tame and nestled up against Jenkins’ chest +directly he drew it out. It was a magnificent creature, not a Persian, +but with a very thick coat, pure white and a tail like the brush of an +Arctic fox. Jenkins returned the bag and gave two shillings to the man +with the evil face who immediately melted into the darkness and Jenkins +was just closing the door, the cat still in his arms, when the doctor +came up from the outside and entered. + +“That’s a fine animal,” he remarked as he closed the door and the cat +turned its great golden eyes on him, “how much did you have to give?” + +“Only 2/ Sir,” Jenkins answered, “the man has stolen it I should think.” + +The doctor laughed. + +“Evidently. Some old maid’s cat, I expect. Nice tame beast,” he put +his hand on the cat’s head and ruffled the fur backwards and forwards +rather roughly. The cat put its head back and looked at the doctor +with some resentment in its golden eyes. “Accustomed to sit on the +table and drink cream out of the old maid’s saucer, eh?” he went on +half playfully. “Well, we’ve a little table here for you, my beauty. +We’ll set you on it and clamp you down and then we set it spinning. +One hundred miles an hour or more we keep you whirling round for +a fortnight and then when we take you off your eyes will be all +criss-cross and you’ll be just mad with terror. That’s what we’ll +do with you, Pussy.” Then he walked on humming into his own study, +into which he went and slammed the door. Jenkins left standing in the +passage, the cat still clasped to him, wondered whether men were men +or fiends. A sick loathing grew up in him and seemed to submerge his +spirit like a great wave. Then it rolled over, leaving him with a clear +fierce determination that come what might, this thing in his arms so +gentle, so trustful, should never be placed on that hellish table. + +The cat, distressed by something in the doctor’s touch or voice or +face, turned its head up to Jenkins and fixed its beautiful golden gaze +on him and apparently from Jenkins’ drawn sad face it gained confidence +and began to purr. Jenkins with the fire of hatred glowing in his heart +against mankind climbed the stairs to his own room and deposited the +cat on his bed. He then set his stove going, drew his curtains and +poured out a saucer of milk. The cat watched all these proceedings +appreciatively and purred loudly in response. When it had lapped up +all the milk while Jenkins held the saucer, it lay back on the bed and +stretched its paws up purring, saying quite clearly, “Come and caress +me, I’m accustomed to it. I’m a very nice cat,” and Jenkins sat beside +it, stroking it, with the tears burning behind his eye-lids. It was a +stolen pet evidently and Jenkins would not have taken it in at the door +except that he knew if he refused it, where possibly through him it +might have a chance of safety, the cat stealer would simply take it on +to another accursed laboratory where it would have _no_ chance of +escape from the tortures awaiting it. + +That night the doctor called to Jenkins as he was going up to bed, “I’m +very busy just now. I’ve got so many things going to attend to but I’ll +have more time in a week or so. Just remind me about the cat later on, +will you? If I forget.” + +Jenkins listened, his face growing dark as he stood in the shadow, on +the stairs. + +“Yes, Sir,” he replied and went on up. + +The cat was waiting for him curled on the bed and mewed delightedly +at his entrance, showing its white teeth and its little pink tongue, +curled up like a rose leaf, behind them. + +Jenkins seated himself beside the cat and fed it on some scraps he had +brought up with him. For a week the cat remained, a willing prisoner +in his room. He gave it a large tray of earth over by the window to +scratch in and replenished it every day from the bit of common ground +round the house. He brought everything up to it and waited on it and +never let it out where evil eyes could fall on it and all that week he +searched the papers daily for some announcement of a lost cat. There +were no shops very near the laboratory but he walked every day to the +nearest, a small newsagent’s and tobacconist’s where he bought his +papers and then studied them diligently in his own room. + +At last he found the notice he wanted. + +“Lost. A large white tomcat. Not Persian, but thick coat and bushy +tail. Finder will be handsomely rewarded if he brings cat to blank +Grosvenor Square, W.” + +Jenkins read this with a beating heart. This was his cat he felt sure. +The doctor was away for his usual week end. This was Saturday. He +always was allowed Sunday afternoon for himself. To-morrow he would +take the cat back to its owner. + +That night he held it tightly to him and hardly slept but spent his +time stroking and caressing it and realising how lonely he would be +without it. But still to get it out of this hell, safe and alive, was +everything. The cat, with all its claws sheathed in its velvet skin +patted gently with its paws Jenkins’ thin cheeks and nestled close to +him purring ecstatically. It missed its own house and mistress but +no animal could be insensible of the flood of love and sympathy that +poured out from Jenkins’ unhappy heart. The next morning he spent +much time on brushing and combing its silky coat and about two in the +afternoon with his heart high in hope he set out for Grosvenor Square, +the cat curled round in the lidded basket which Jenkins had brought, +filled with vegetables, with him from the country. He thought if he; +could once see the owner of the cat and tell him or her of the horrors +his or her pet had so narrowly escaped, then surely anyone so rich and +powerful as to be able to live in Grosvenor Square would take some +steps against the system which made these horrors possible. + +When he arrived at the door of the house it was opened by a footman +who at once glanced at the basket. When Jenkins asked to see the +person who had put in the advertisement, the man replied affably, +“Miss Courtneidge is in and I think will see you.” Then he stooped +down and scratched at the basket side. “Cushy,” he called and a mew of +recognition came from within. + +“Come upstairs,” he said and Jenkins followed full of joyful +anticipation of coming face to face with someone who surely would +listen to his message. He entered a large room and at the far end +there sat Miss Courtneidge, a fat, middle-aged woman with a bright +intelligent and pleasing face. She jumped up and took the basket from +Jenkins smiling and lifted the lid. + +“Oh, there you are Cushy,” she exclaimed, and lifted the creature out +with many murmurs of delight. + +Jenkins stood by respectfully enjoying the scene to the full. There was +no doubt the lady genuinely loved her pet and the cat could hardly have +a better mistress. + +“Do sit down,” she said after a minute, “and tell me where you found +him.” + +She sat down with the cat in her arms and Jenkins took a seat opposite +her. + +“A man, a regular cat stealer, I think, brought him in a bag to our +place and offered him to me for 2/--I saw at once he was stolen and I +thought I’d better take him and try to find the owner. If I hadn’t, the +man would have taken him to another laboratory where they wouldn’t have +bothered to restore him to his owner but used him in the laboratory.” + +The lady was listening intently to Jenkins and he thought her eyes grew +harder. + +“What are you then?” she asked quietly. + +“I am an attendant at a laboratory for Scientific Research,” returned +Jenkins, “and the man brought the cat to be experimented upon, but I +don’t like the business and I meant to save this cat anyway.” + +“If you don’t like it, why do you stay?” asked the lady quietly and +very coldly. + +Jenkins realised that his hearer’s sympathies were alienated from him +and the false position in which he stood came home to him. At first +he had thought it might be possible to make a clean breast of his +feelings. He had visions of the lady coming to see the tortured animals +and in her righteous wrath having the hideous place done away with +altogether, but now something in the coldness of her voice and eyes +warned him he must go very carefully. + +“I stay to try and do what I can for the animals,” he answered, “do you +know about this Scientific Research, ma’am?” + +“I know that it is a very noble work carried on by selfless men and +women who give up their lives to the cause of humanity,” replied the +lady proudly. + +Jenkins looked back at her aghast as these parrot phrases fell from her +lips. Evidently she knew nothing at all about it and against this dense +ignorance he felt he had no weapons. + +“You don’t know what goes on in the laboratories, animals are tortured +to death and given the most hideous sufferings that don’t lead to +anything,” he said. + +The lady compressed her lips. + +“I can’t believe you,” she said icily, “I have many friends who are +doctors and scientific men and I am sure they would do nothing but what +is right. If they have to experiment on animals I am sure they do it +kindly.” + +Jenkins could have laughed bitterly as he heard but he controlled +himself and answered: + +“How _can_ you starve animals kindly, ma’am?” + +The lady looked cross and was silent for a moment and Jenkins burst out: + +“Do come with me now and I’ll show you what Scientific Research really +means. The laboratory is empty, I am in sole charge, the doctor is +away. Come and see the animals for yourself. Then you can judge about +it.” + +The lady looked crosser than ever. + +“Thank you. I am quite capable of judging the matter already. I rely +upon what my doctor tells me. In any case, if there were any cruelty, I +couldn’t bear to see it, I couldn’t sleep for a week if I did.” + +Again Jenkins felt helpless and appalled. What stupendous folly, what +selfishness! Any cruelty might be practiced, provided _she_ did +not see it, provided _her_ sleep was not disturbed. + +“I really must ask you to go now,” she continued. “I have a meeting +this afternoon here of the League of Love. We have the Bishop coming +and we are going to organize something to aid the hospitals.” + +Jenkins rose immediately. + +“To aid the hospitals! To build new laboratories for the torture of +_more_ animals! Oh ma’am, you don’t know what you are doing! +If _I_ had not saved your cat he’d have been pinned down to an +electric table and spun round at 100 miles an hour for a fortnight and +taken off it mad and blind to have his brain opened and looked at. That +was _his_ fate and how does that help humanity?” + +The lady was standing too. + +“You need not expect that I shall increase your reward for bringing him +back by telling me these wicked stories,” she said severely. “Here is +two pounds. I shall not give you any more!” and she held towards him +two pound-notes. + +Over Jenkins’ face ran a flame of scarlet, then faded leaving him +ashy white. That was what she thought! That he was detailing false +sufferings to increase his own reward! + +He took the notes from her hand and dropped them on the floor and then +stepped forward and put his foot down on them, looking her full in the +face. + +“That, ma’am, is what I care for your reward! I brought that creature +back to you because I loved it. I never thought of the reward and +should not have taken any in any case. I pray some day you may be +shaken out of the darkness and the ignorance you live in.” + +He turned and strode to the door, leaving the notes on the floor and +the lady too astonished to say anything. A pair of golden eyes watched +him depart and a little soft mew came to his ears as he closed the door +and seemed to stab into his heart. + +He walked down the stairs and out into the street with a sorely wounded +spirit. All the joy and elation at having rescued the cat and restored +it was blotted out by the cold tide of despair. He felt that he was +helpless to save others just as loving, just as beautiful as this one, +from death by torture. What could he do? So long as the world consisted +of the friends who did these things and the fools who were so kind +that they couldn’t believe in the fiends and so cowardly that they +would not consider the question for fear of losing a night’s sleep, +what could he do? “God help me, God help me,” was the cry that rose +in his heart. And formerly it had comforted him and he had believed +that God would help him however unkind man might be. But how? Was +there any God? Was it not a Devil who ruled the world if this sort of +Scientific Research were allowed in it? Why should God help him, if he +cared nothing for the miseries of the innocent and sweet animals he had +created? + +Thoroughly miserable he went back to the hell on the common and up +in his own room, making his solitary tea, he took himself severely +to task. Had he wasted that golden opportunity, when he, knowing the +truth, was face to face with one who knew nothing except some phrases +culled from the articles of doctors, in the Press? Could he have done +better? Was it his fault that he had failed? Over and over in his mind +he turned that conversation but could decide nothing. His brains felt +battered and weary but he was glad the cat was gone. + +The very next morning when the doctor returned, he called Jenkins into +his study. + +“Jenkins our stock of dogs is low, isn’t it?” + +“The last one died last night, Sir.” + +“Oh: which was that?” + +“The little Skye you were starving, Sir.” + +“H’m: when did I begin? Do you remember?” + +“Ten days ago.” + +“Ten days! That’s quite a good record. Isn’t it? Had it eaten that coke +I put in the cage?” + +“No, Sir. Only gnawed it a bit. I found blood on it where the coke had +cut its mouth. It hadn’t eaten it.” + +“Oh, well,” cheerily, “we must get in some more dogs. By the way, +there’s that cat, bring me that.” + +“Sorry, Sir, the cat escaped.” + +“What?” the doctor wheeled round in his chair and looked piercingly at +his attendant, but Jenkin’s face was still and stolid as a mask. + +“You let it go, you mean, do you? I thought you were rather soft headed +over that cat when it came in. Now look here, mind this, if any more +animals _escape_ at any time, I shall have no further use for you. +See?” + +“Yes, Sir.” + +“And to-morrow morning you’ll go and get me half a dozen kittens: +big ones. Go to the Army and Navy Stores or anywhere you like but +mind those kittens are here by noon. I am going to try some eye +transplanting.” + +Jenkins withdrew. + +How could such a man be allowed to exist, he asked himself. How could +such a place as this stand? Why did not a lightning stroke burn it to +the ground with its fiendish owner inside? Why did not the flame that +swept over Sodom and Gomorra sweep also over the laboratories of London +and obliterate them? + +Then he smiled grimly remembering how the laboratories were supported +by the tax payer, approved by the king, and beloved by the aristocracy. + +What was he, Jenkins, to think differently from all these? He was only +a poor common-sense man of the people. But he knew and they did not. +That was the tragedy of it. He would have given his life to be able to +tell and convince them. + + + CHAPTER 4 + + +One evening the doctor on coming home tossed a card over to Jenkins +with the remark, “Better come to the lecture and hear me talk the money +out of the public pocket.” + +Jenkins looked at the card and saw it admitted him at 8 p. m. on the +coming Thursday evening to a lecture on Scientific Research by Sir +Charles Smith-Brown, Dsc. M.D., etc., etc. Jenkins thanked him and put +the card in his pocket and on the next Thursday he presented his ticket +punctually at the time and place appointed. + +The small lecture room was already well filled when Jenkins entered +and he noticed that the first four or five rows of seats were railed +off by a crimson cord from the rest and in these were seated people +that Jenkins recognized immediately as “gentlefolk.” They were all very +well dressed in semi-evening dress and had, for the most part, nice +kind-looking intelligent faces. Jenkins spirits rose as he saw them. + +“Surely they can’t easily be humbugged,” he thought, “they’ve been +taught to read and think and had plenty of time for schooling.” + +He slipped quietly into a vacant seat he saw some rows back of the red +cord. Here the people were all in hats and coats and had evidently come +on foot to the meeting. Their faces were harder looking than those in +front but they also looked intelligent, interested and alert. Jenkins +particularly liked the look of his neighbour. A hard working man he +should think, perhaps a small tradesman running his own business or +perhaps a clerk, anyway he looked keen and quick as a man with his own +decided ideas and opinions. + +The platform was now filling up with figures: the ladies resplendent +in gay coloured Opera cloaks and wearing jewels in their beautifully +dressed hair, the men showing large expanses of shirt front. Among +these Jenkins noted the sleek form of the doctor and a glow of hatred +seemed to spread through him as he noted the suave smile on the thin +lips and the benign expression of the whole face so different from the +set, savage stare Jenkins was familiar with as the man worked in his +laboratory, tearing muscle and nerve out of quivering flesh. + +“Blasted hypocrite,” he thought furiously to himself and then he noted +the eyes of his neighbour quickly passing over the platform as the +stately and imposing figures filed onto it quietly and took their +appointed seats. + +“Who are they all?” he asked in an undertone of the keen faced one. + +“Regular swells, all of them,” the man returned in the same discreet +voice which was quick like his eyes. “That’s the Marquis of Sedlestone +in the chair and that’s Lord and Lord and Lord,” he ran off the names +so quickly Jenkins could hardly catch them. “He’s gulled them all. They +all believe in him and this beastly Research. That’s what beats me. How +they can be such fools.” + +Jenkins nodded sympathetically. He felt happier. Evidently this man +beside him knew the truth of things. He longed intensely to confide in +him and tell him what _he_ knew but he controlled the impulse. If +he was to carry out successfully his great scheme absolute secrecy and +concealment of his own feelings was necessary. There was no time for +further talk in any case for after a few preliminaries on the platform +had been arranged, there was the silver tinkle of a bell and the +Marquis of Sedlestone rose to address the audience. + +There was absolute silence in the hall and Jenkins listened +breathlessly to every word. + +“My Lords, ladies and gentlemen, we have the privilege to-night of +being gathered together to listen to one of the most distinguished men +of our time, Sir Charles Brown-Smith, M.D. Dsc. Science may be said to +be the leading force in the world to-day and in him we see one of its +most brilliant exponents.” (Applause.) “Science to-day is advancing +with the steps of a giant. Disease and decay are fading, diminishing, +vanishing before it.” + +“What bosh all that is when they can’t cure a common cold,” thought +Jenkins. + +“Maladies are disappearing. Yellow fever is conquered, consumption all +but conquered, cancer--” + +“Is increasing,” shouted a voice at the back of the hall. + +There was some laughter in the back seats but only a slight offended +rustle from the front rows. + +“Alas! Yes,” continued the suave well-modulated voice from the +platform. “As my friend at the back of the hall has remarked, cancer is +increasing and that proves that more research is needed, more patient +labour, more funds, more encouragement for those noble men and women +who--” + +“You’ve been at it now over twenty years,” interrupted the voice in a +dominant tone that filled the hall, “and had buckets of money poured +into it, without an atom of result, except that cancer is spreading +everywhere all the time, and it’s you people who are doing it. You’re +not stopping it: you’re spreading it with your beastly laboratories all +full of animals dying of it. Aren’t they breathing out cancer all the +time? Aren’t their cages full of it? Aren’t the men who look after them +carrying cancer germs with them everywhere?” + +While these strident questions were being hurled at him, the noble +Marquis had waited silent on the platform, looking slightly annoyed and +after a second or two he turned and made some observation to a young +man sitting behind him, who rose immediately and left the platform by +its side door. There had been some applause from various parts of the +hall as these questions full of scalding contempt had been shouted out +and heads were turned and necks craned to see who the interrupter was. +Only the front rows sat unmoved as if they had not heard, their eyes +fixed before them waiting for the authorised speaker to continue and +a few seconds after the young man had disappeared from the platform, +there was a violent scuffle at the back of the room. Between two stout +men of the law the interrupter was unceremoniously bundled out. + +“There’s the Free Speech of England to-day,” came a caustic whisper +from Jenkins’ bright-eyed neighbour, “if ever there’s a revolution in +England, it’ll be these damned medical men who are at the bottom of it.” + +Jenkins again nodded in silence. The noble Marquis was proceeding. + +“As I was saying, Science had made the most remarkable advances and +suffering Humanity could turn its eyes hopefully to the future where +disease would be stamped out, pain practically abolished, and the +onset of old age delayed by 50 or 70 years. But I will not detain you +longer. I will leave to our distinguished lecturer the pleasing task of +explaining to you how these marvels will be accomplished.” + +“Awful tosh,” murmured keen-eyes as the noble Marquis took his seat and +Sir Charles Brown-Smith rose to address the meeting. + +“My Lords, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “my noble friend has +promised you that I shall tell you some of the most recent marvels +Science has accomplished and I will not disappoint you, but first I +should like to say a few words on that vexed question--experiments on +living animals. Some evilly disposed persons have recently been trying +to oppose the glorious march of Science by suggesting that there is +cruelty connected with these experiments that are so vital to our work, +so necessary to its success, so far reaching in their results for +suffering humanity. I wish now to state that in my work I am frequently +obliged to resort to these experiments and also to witness them in the +studies of others and I can confidently assure you that there is not +an atom of cruelty connected with them.” Here the doctor paused and +beamed upon his docile audience through his large spectacles while a +gentle smile suffused his whole benign countenance. A warm murmur of +grateful applause rose from the seats beyond the red cord: the mass of +the people at the back listened in sullen silence: an indrawn breath of +sheer astonishment from Jenkins greeted this stupendous lie. + +“The animals,” continued the doctor, “who have the honour of being +permitted to share in this glorious work, are cared for with devoted +attention, no effort is spared in seeing that they are properly housed +and well fed. They have every comfort and to see them sporting behind +the bars of their spacious cages one would imagine they were rejoicing +in their great destiny.” + +Jenkins, on hearing this, simply turned in his chair, open mouthed to +his companion of the keen eyes, and met their clear quizzical gaze +fixed upon him. + +“Good one, that eh?” keen-eyes murmured. + +“Ananias!” shouted an unregenerate person at the back of the hall, +“what about your starving experiments?” + +The doctor deigned no reply and the former scuffling sounds being +repeated, the audience knew that the interrupter had been removed and +the English tradition of liberty again upheld. + +“Well fed, well cared for, watched over,” continued the doctor blandly, +“and all they have to suffer is the trifling discomfort of a quick +prick from an inoculating needle or a variation of their usual diet.” + +As these lies poured smoothly forth in the great man’s mellow voice, +Jenkins saw before him the rows of desolate zinc floored cages, each +with its tortured inmate moaning out its life, he saw the puppies +starving and distorted beyond recognition in the experiment for +rickets, the dog blinded and sitting in hopeless agonies because his +eyes had been taken to graft into another dog’s sockets, the monkeys +wasted to a skeleton or hugely swelled, going blind and semi-paralysed +because their thyroid gland had been cut out, all these horrible sights +rose before him and he gazed at the speaker, stupefied and dumb. + +His neighbour spoke in a low voice in his ear, very low because he had +no wish to be turned out. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the +red cord. + +“Why on earth they don’t see that he’s guying them, beats me,” he said. + +“So now let us dismiss this myth of cruelty from our mind, let us +remember that great men are rarely cruel and let us refuse to believe +these unjust libels that ignorant and prejudiced people are so wantonly +spreading.” Here the doctor’s voice took on a mild severity and the red +corders all warmly applauded. + +The speaker proceeded. + +“I have mentioned how this myth of cruelty impedes the progress +of Science but I shall now touch upon something that is even more +obstructive to our success: something that is constantly hampering +us in our forward march, and that is in this country the absence of +compulsion. Yes, my friends, it is true: we are suffering from too much +liberty. Liberty is a very excellent thing, a fine thing, but it can be +pushed too far, we can have too much of it.” + +“_Never_,” from the back benches. + +“Pardon me, we can have too much even of liberty. Liberty which +harms ourselves, liberty which harms others must be curtailed. I +say unhesitatingly that liberty to refuse the untold benefits of +vaccination, of inoculation, is an evil. Those who are so blind as to +fail to see the benefits, for themselves, should be forced to accept +them. I look forward personally to that time, not I trust, far distant, +when like our great sister nation, America, we shall have compulsion +for everything that is now left to the ignorant individual to decide +for himself.” + +At this point the red corders began to move uneasily in their chairs +and look at each other. They were not quite so sure about all this. + +“What can the individual know about the uses or the benefits of the +processes offered to him, which he so often rashly and fatally refuses? +Is it fair to throw the burden of deciding upon him? How far better +that the man of Science, the man who knows, should decide for him and +_compel_ him to accept the inestimable blessings of Science! I am +pleased to say there is a great forward movement to be noticed lately +in this direction, no one can enter the Army or the Navy or any public +service, nor can a boy go to a public school without being vaccinated +for instance, very excellent, very admirable and now that we have the +Ministry of Health we may look forward to suitable laws being passed +which will bring every individual, no matter of what class or station +under the grasp of the healing hand of Science. Personally I think, +and I hope, it will not be long before that simple and so necessary +operation of taking out the tonsils will be made compulsory.” + +“I should like to say a word,” came a voice from the back and it was so +hollow, so sepulchral that it attracted instant attention and even the +red corders looked round to see to whom it belonged. + +A young man of a pallid countenance and hollow cheeks was standing up +and the doctor seeing the audience was interested and would like to +hear what the interrupter had to say, affected to be quite willing and +waited for him to continue. + +“I was well and strong,” proceeded the pale cheeked one in his +remarkable voice which went all over the hall, “till a medical chap +looked down my throat and advised me to have my tonsils cut out. I +didn’t know what I was in for and went to a hospital and had it done. +It’s a horrible operation and I suffered for a week after. Well, it’s +done I think and that’s that. But it wasn’t over as I thought. My +tonsils grow now since they’ve been cut. In a year I was told they +must be done again and now I’ve been through that damned thing _five +times_. I lose a lot of blood each time over it, it gets on my +nerves, and I’m a wreck. That’s what cutting out tonsils has done for +me. And I know it’s wrong now. The tonsils are filters put in our +throats to filter the air before it reaches the lungs and to stop bad +germs going further. I know now what Nature put ’em there for and I say +it’s a crying shame to take them out.” + +This last was shouted defiantly and the young man paler than ever +before and with beads of sweat standing out on his corpse-like +countenance sat down. + +There was dead silence for a moment in the hall where Truth for a +second had flitted through the fog of lies rising from the platform and +rent it with her sharp wings. + +Then the doctor, very suave, very smiling, took up his parable again. + +“My young friend has indeed suffered and we must extend our sympathies +to him. At the same time we must not allow our judgment to be +influenced by one unfortunate accidental case, when we know that +millions are benefited.” + +“Who says they are?” shouted back the young man. “Only you doctor +people, not those who’ve been through it!” + +“And who should know better than the doctors?” blandly returned the +lecturer. “That is just the very point I was going to elaborate when +my young friend interrupted me. Perhaps he himself has been benefited, +perhaps had he not taken the first advice he would have been now +suffering from some malady worse than the mere loss of his tonsils, +perhaps he would not have been here at all.” + +The red corders nodded solemnly at this and gave some faint indications +of applause. In the back seats the young man muttered “Rot,” but the +doctor was proceeding with his lecture and the young man and Truth were +definitely squashed. + +Jenkins sat in his seat wondering. Had the young man made any +impression on the red corders or not? He thought not. They had come +there determined to hear the doctor, determined to hear no one else. +They were determined to believe in him and to refuse to believe anyone +else. That was their attitude. The doctor went on. + +“To compel people to be healthy and happy surely that is what the +laws should aim at and while now having grown up in our present lax +system of pleasing himself, the individual may feel it hard to have +his liberty curtailed I look forward to the future in which the child +having been brought up on scientific principles from the first will +not miss what he has never had--his liberty. Yes, that is the ideal, +ladies and gentlemen, the child, we shall begin with the child. We +shall take him from the cradle, nay more we shall deal with the mother +beforehand, so that his pre-natal welfare will be studied. In the +future we shall no longer see the poor neglected child clinging to the +hand of its slatternly mother and sucking at the noxious sweets she has +in her ignorance bought for it. No! We shall see a little being, gently +led by a sweet faced hospital nurse, his eyes carefully protected by +glasses, his pearly teeth already stopped with gold and supported by +plates. No dirty clothes to harbor disease about him, he is dressed +in the neat and simple uniform provided by the State. And within his +little frame has been as carefully tended, his tonsils removed he need +not dread tonsillitis, his appendix taken away what cause has he to +fear appendicitis, _X_-rayed every week, no disease can approach +him unperceived. Vaccinated every year against small-pox, inoculated +frequently for typhoid and all the murderous maladies that surround us, +here is my ideal little citizen of the future. He faces life armed by +Science against all ills. Is it not an inspiring picture?” + +The doctor paused and beamed in a fatherly way as if the little +monstrosity he had conjured up by his words were on the platform, +before him. + +The red corders gave some applause, there was dead silence at the back +for a second, then a voice asked: + +“What about his little legs and arms, Mister, has he got ’em still, or +have they been sawn off and artificial ones hooked on?” + +Loud laughter from all the back benches greeted this interruption. When +it had subsided the doctor replied gravely: + +“Certainly nothing would be done to remove his limbs unnecessarily, if +on the other hand any accident happened to him there are artificial +limbs in readiness so carefully thought out, so exquisitely fashioned +that they function nearly as well as the natural ones.” + +“Rats!” came an angry voice from the wooden benches and a young man +sprang to his feet. He looked like an ex-soldier, his face was pale and +thin with a hectic flush burning on his cheek-bones. One sleeve hung +empty by his side. + +“Look at me!” he shouted, “I had my arm taken off in the war by some of +you devils. Wasn’t a bit necessary, ordinary nursing would have saved +it. But what’s that to you? You don’t care for flesh and blood, you +only care for your devilish devices. I had a flesh wound and off you +took my arm and gave me a false one, a thing all straps and buckles +and springs that tortured me like hell. I was kept on view and taught +to pick up a pin when the Queen came to see me. What good’s that to +me? The whole thing fell to pieces after a week or two. You leave us +alone and our children too. We don’t want your spectacles and your +false teeth and your _X_-rays. Leave our young ’uns alone as God +made ’em. That’s what I say.” He sat down and all those at the back +applauded loudly. + +The doctor on the platform gave his shoulders an infinitesimal shrug +and waited in silence until the storm had subsided. Then he continued +in a pained voice, as one grieved by the deep ingratitude of the world. + +“Again I can only say we must not judge from unfortunate exceptions. +Artificial limbs are and have been and will always be a great boon to +humanity.” + +“We prefer to keep our own, thank you!” retorted the young man, which +remark the doctor passed over with a patient air and continued his +lecture. + +There was nothing new in it. The same old rubbish that is always set +afloat by the doctors and scientific men and then repeated pompously +from mouth to mouth without examination by the asses in society was +duly brought forward here. + +As the doctor himself with his usual cynicism would have remarked, “Why +take the trouble to invent a new lie when you can still gull the public +with the old one?” + +He cited the great benefits that Science had conferred on humanity in +the War, how inoculation had saved the troops from typhoid without +explaining why a hundred thousand had died after Gallipoli. + +He dilated on the wonderful advantages of the _X_-ray without +mentioning the countless victims who had been slowly roasted to death +under it. + +He expatiated on anti-toxin cures of diphtheria without explaining why +the death rate from diphtheria had gone up and not down since its use +and without mentioning that Bella Donna is a specific for that disease +and there is no need whatever for anti-toxin which involves the most +hideous suffering to horses. + +Lies and lies and more lies flowed from his lips until it seemed +to Jenkins he got choked with them. A hurried sip of water and he +brought his speech to a close with the usual appeal for more funds for +Research, that noble work in which thousands of selfless men and women +(like himself, he implied) were spending their lives. After that came +some whisper and a little fluttering pause. Then the Chairman announced +amidst applause from the red corders that a cheque for 50,000 pounds +had been received from a member of the audience who wished to remain +anonymous, for the splendid work--the direct result of the doctor’s +moving address. + +With hissing and booing the company at the back got on to their feet +and made for the doors. + +Jenkins and his neighbour went out together. A line of well appointed, +lighted motors stood outside. The two men paused as if with one accord +and waited watching the well dressed crowd come out, get into their +cars and roll smoothly away. + +“There they go,” keen-eyes said bitterly, “home to sleep in their +downy beds or to eat and drink with never a thought of the agony of +the poor suffering animals. Fools! Led by the nose by that criminal +lunatic that’s been telling them all that rubbish this evening. And +they’ve _got_ the brains to see through it all, that’s what makes +me so mad with them. It’s not as if they were stupid or uneducated +and _couldn’t_ think for themselves. They _won’t_ think.” +He stopped and drew a pipe from his pocket and began filling it and +ramming in the tobacco. “I used to think well of the upper classes +at one time. I know they are unselfish and they work hard lots of +them and do a lot of good to others but the way they’ve swallowed +all this cant about Scientific Research, the way they shut their +eyes and ears to the truth has disgusted me with them. We’ve got +regular devil-worship in England now. What these so-called scientific +chaps do in their laboratories is appalling. It’s just sheer lust of +killing and torturing, lust run wild and those fools patronise it and +_because_ they patronise it, every man-jack in the Kingdom, got +to pay for it. We’ve got to struggle along and pay taxes that fellows +like this Smith-Brown may enjoy themselves wallowing in a horrible +vice. I tell you I’ve read about devil-worship in Africa and whole +communities being under the thumb of a few priests and we’ve jolly well +got exactly the same thing going on in England to-day. The health of +the country is being ruined, the blood and the brains of the people +all messed up by the filthy inoculations and vaccinations and we are +breeding more and more men with this lust in their brains for tearing +living things to pieces and those people are responsible for all this.” +He jerked his thumb in the direction of the departing motors gliding +away soundlessly bearing their freights of humanity, good hearted, +kindly persons for the most part, but utterly blinded by a foolish and +fanatical belief: just as completely as the simple savage peoples of +darkest Africa are blinded by their medicine men when they order them +to gash their breasts and throw their mutilated babies into the flames. + +“What can we do?” pursued keen-eyes as the two men turned away into +the darkness of the wet streets. “We’re poor, we can’t do anything. We +can’t get at the public to tell it what’s going on. If we’re ill we’re +lugged off to these beastly hospitals and cut up alive, we’re forced +to send our children to school and the doctors there cut’em about as +they like, what can we do? But those people, they _could_ alter +things, one of those lords owns a newspaper, if he studied the thing +up, he could set it all out in his paper and squash the whole thing. He +could show up these scientific men and what they do. He could show that +this whole craze for torturing animals was just a form of lunacy. The +nation wouldn’t support it for two minutes if it were once told what +it was. But he does nothing, he uses his paper just to help the thing +on. Then those other lords, they could speak in their House and say +outright what it was--just devil-worship--but they allow themselves to +be humbugged like all the rest of the fools.” + +After a pause keen-eyes started again in his quick fiery way. + +“What I keep on hoping is that the medical profession itself will +see what a mistake they are making. Already a number of doctors have +declared themselves against experiments on animals. That’s the root +of the whole trouble. Experiments on living animals. The doctors are +wrongly trained from the beginning. The young men, the medical students +in their classes, at their lectures, see a living animal being operated +upon, being cut up, before them. Sometimes it is under an anaesthetic, +sometimes partially so, sometimes not at all. They are taught that +this is right, they are trained to cut the animal up alive themselves. +They are trained to see the animal writhing and struggling in its +helpless agonies and shown how to inflict them. These men are young +men, they are just at that age when the brain is most susceptible to +impressions, when the character is forming, when there are terrible +impulses towards evil and equally great yearnings toward good. It is +quite easy to see what an effect these classes must have upon them, +these spectacles of the living pulsating form of an animal being torn +in pieces, by an older man, who is evidently absolutely indifferent +to the horrible suffering he is causing. And this effect is evil. At +first many of these young men do feel horror at the sight, they feel +the normal sympathy everyone should feel at the sight of suffering. +Then they are jeered at by their older companions. They are told that +callous man who is sinking his knife between muscle and bone cutting +the nerves of the poor moaning victim is doing _right_ and a great +man. Thus they are initiated into the devil worship. Sometimes the +young students overcome by the revolt of all their natural instincts +against it, faint at the revolting sight. They are carried out of the +class room and revived. By the order of the professor they are brought +back and _made_ to witness the lingering torments of the animal +on the operating-table They are being hardened. Day by day they are +trained thus and gradually their normal feelings begin to change. +From sickness and revolt at the horrors they see done, they come to a +liking for them, a wish to participate in them, they become abnormal. +Their brains having been shocked at the most sensitive age, they become +deflected from their true balance. Those feelings of justice, mercy, +sympathy and pity which distinguish the worthy human being disappear +and the normal young man who commenced his medical course is at the +end of it an abnormal ill balanced creature with that impulse towards +cruelty we notice in the monkey highly developed and the qualities +of man carefully trained out of his crooked brain. And it is from +this material we make our doctors! The men we call in to treat our +beloved sick, to minister to our dear ones when dying! Heavens, what a +farce! Doctors above all men should be highly trained in sympathy and +justice. Nothing should be allowed to cloud or shock the brain of the +young medical student. A clear judgment, great power of observation, +great sympathy with all suffering, reverence for life. These are the +qualities we want in our doctors and should therefore be cultivated in +our medical students. All that is necessary for the healing of the +human body can be learned from the careful observation of that body in +health and in sickness and in death. Anatomy can be far better taught +by cutting up the dead human body than the living animal.” + +He stopped and there was silence between them as they plodded on. +Jenkins felt too crushed and wretched to be able to collect his +thoughts and he knew it was not safe for him, with his ultimate object +in view, to reveal himself or his sentiments to anyone. He felt vaguely +comforted by the companionship of this other man who evidently, like +himself, knew the truth, but he dared not confide in him. He could only +listen in silence. The other did not seem to mind. He appeared to know +instinctively that Jenkins was of one mind with himself and he asked no +questions. At the corner of Oxford Street he stopped and held out his +hand. + +“I wait here,” he said, “my bus’ll be along presently. Goodnight, it’s +a bad business but remember this, _it can’t last_. The day will +come when this gigantic fraud on the public, this Scientific Research, +will be exposed. We mayn’t be here to see it, worse luck, for it will +take a long time but it must come. All frauds come to the same end.” + +Jenkins grasped his hand and wrung it, the kind keen eyes met his for +a moment. Then they had parted and Jenkins was drifting down a side +street alone with his hands driven down deep into the pockets of his +overcoat and clenched there. + +What _could_ he do, what _could_ he do to unveil this +stupendous lie? To raise this flimsy curtain of a _name_ and show +the filthy loathsome lust that cowered behind it. He walked and walked +desperately up one street and down another. He did not know or care +where he went. He would walk through the night and only turn up at this +loathsome work in the morning. The utter horror of the whole thing +enveloped him like a cloud and his terrible impotence in the matter +seemed like something stifling suffocating him. He believed he could +kill the doctor and so save a certain amount of horrible suffering +but that was so little against the whole mass of evil and error that +a small band of men had managed to let loose upon the world. For the +whole world was affected. This folly of blind belief in the words of +men who dubbed themselves wise and learned, beneficent and infallible, +had spread its sickly snare not over one country nor quarter but over +the whole world. Hospitals, laboratories are found everywhere and +though there were wise and thinking people also everywhere they did not +seem numerous enough nor strong enough to stop the march of Evil. Would +the day of deliverance ever come? He wondered dismally as keen-eyes had +predicted. For the present this devil-worship was all on the up-grade. +More taxes were being levied, more money thrown into the hands of the +medicine men, more hospitals being built, more research laboratories +being endowed. Jenkins wandered on through the damp, black streets +depressed to the very uttermost. That lecture had pushed him down to +the very depths of despair, just as Doctor Smith-Brown had cynically +foreseen it would do. He saw that Jenkins had still some faith in the +common sense of ordinary people. The doctor determined he should attend +the lecture and see for himself how easily and completely they were +taken in and deluded. Towards morning, stiff and aching in every limb +he got back to the laboratory. It was dark and cold: fires and lights +were out and a low moaning of unutterable anguish filled the darkness. +Jenkins went heavily up the stairs to his bed, wretched beyond +description, oppressed by the wickedness of one half of the world and +the stupidity of the other half. + + + CHAPTER 5 + + +Three weeks had elapsed, three weeks of dreadful mental suffering for +Jenkins and it had left its mark upon him. He was a changed man from +the one who came strong and straight, clear-eyed and tranquil-minded +from the country. He had grown pale and gaunt, he stooped a little, his +clothes hung on him loosely. Those sleepless nights when the screaming +of the animals in mortal agony rang through the whole house penetrating +even to his top room and through his blocked up ears, were draining +his strength little by little, but now his resolve once fixed and the +determination to kill the doctor, clear cut in his mind, he was less +unhappy than in those first days of astounded wondering, crumbling +beliefs and uncertainty as to where his duty lay. + +Now that the Right lay plain before him, he had only one anxiety--that +his strength would hold out until his duty was done. He walled himself +round with a solid reserve and kept his grim purpose before him night +and day. He realised that he could do very little. He knew that when +a whole nation has gone mad and determined to set up a horrible vice +in its midst and worship it, one individual has little power to avert +the madness. He had learned by now that there were these hideous +laboratories all over London that the tax-payers of England were +burdened to support them, that there were numbers of men afflicted +with the same monomania as the doctor and whose work equalled in +barbarity his though it could not exceed it. He knew all this, but in +those horrible nights hearing the beseeching cries of the tortured +animals below, he reasoned thus. Each of these scientific researchers +is responsible for killing in agony a certain number of animals. He +had heard for instance the doctor quote a French surgeon who boasted +he had done to death eight thousand dogs in his laboratory. He argued, +therefore, if he could remove even one of these dehumained human beings +from the world, he would certainly save a few thousand helpless animals +from torture and Jenkins felt that was quite worth while. Of what use +was this silly semi-demented old man who sat in his laboratory dabbling +in the blood of dogs or writing to the newspapers about ridiculous +cures he had discovered, that when tried were found to be no cures at +all, or mixing his filthy glycerine in order to cultivate his still +more filthy germs in it? Jenkins, not being one of the befooled public, +saw very clearly that men like this one were not suppressing disease +but spreading it: that these laboratories were plague spots where not +new remedies, but new diseases were invented and elaborated. + +The doctor was quite mad, Jenkins was convinced of that and as there +seemed no way of conveying him to an asylum where he belonged it would +be well to remove him altogether from this world where he was doing so +much evil not only to the animals but to Mankind. + +Therefore waiting and watching for his opportunity Jenkins went quietly +day by day about his work, suffering inwardly horribly for the poor +mutilated animals he had to tend, but letting no sign of agitation or +distress appear in his sedate and stoic manner. The doctor from time +to time eyed him curiously noting with grim satisfaction the physical +changes that had taken place in his hard-working attendant. He was +quite aware that Jenkins was more or less against his work and felt +pain in seeing the tortures of the animals, and therefore his evil mind +delighted in forcing him to witness the most brutal experiments. Such +as tearing out a dog’s eyes to transplant them to another or cutting +out an ear by the roots and sewing it into the victim’s neck. He knew +also that Jenkins saw through the whole farce and that he could not +deceive his attendant as he did the easy going public, so he no longer +pretended that these experiments had any use in them. At the end of +a loathsome exhibition of suffering and torture which had especially +gratified his perverted sexuality, he would turn his gloating face with +its protruding eyes and saliva covered lips to Jenkins and dig him +playfully in the ribs. + +“Good work that, eh, Jenkins? Not exactly useful, but interesting, +eh? Let’s say _interesting_,” and Jenkins, a wooden figure with +a wooden face would stand there with the fires of just indignation +burning him to death within and exerting all his mental and moral force +to keep himself from striking down the fiend in front of him. + +So the days passed for the two men, shut away from the world in their +little building on the piece of waste ground by the common--playfully +for the doctor who “loved his work” as he was never tired of informing +the newspapers. He did indeed love his work and wallowed in its +atrocity as a drunkard in his cups. It was the only true thing he ever +said but that was true, he loved his work--painfully for Jenkins who +thought each night he could bear his martyrdom no longer. But at last +the end came. + +Jenkins had had a peculiarly sickening afternoon: dog after dog had +been taken: thrown in the vivisecting trough, wrenched and racked and +torn, its nerves stimulated, red hot irons passed through its most +sensitive parts and finally been thrown in shrieking agony into a +corner. The doctor was enjoying himself, that he loved his work was +very evident from his excited face, from which he occasionally wiped +the sweat and then resumed his task with fresh ardour. Six o’clock +struck and the doctor stopped. + +“Done a good day’s work, I think,” he remarked. “Take ’em away, +Jenkins, kill ’em if you like. I’ve done with them. I’ll have a fresh +lot to-morrow,” and he waved his hand to the mangled heap on the stone +floor in the corner from which long gasping shivering cries were +rising. “I’m going out. Go upstairs and get your tea. I shan’t want +you again till to-morrow.” With that he turned to his dressing room +from which Jenkins knew he would soon emerge, calm, collected, bland, +immaculate, the suave man of Science that he appeared in public. + +Before getting his tea, Jenkins turned to see what could be done for +the poor bleeding remnants of living beings in the heap. Alas, nothing +but to quiet them in death. He bent over them despatching them as +gently and as quickly as he could and in half an hour the last poor +battered thing had expired. Just then the doctor came out smooth and +sleek and genially smiling. Well dressed as always and holding a little +paper in his hand. + +“I’m thinking of making a few remarks to-night on the benefit of +Vivisection. Some old faddists are getting up on their hind legs and +saying it shouldn’t be allowed, so it’s best to give the public our +usual little dose of talk.” + +Jenkins, sick to death, just nodded and went on with his task of +carrying out the dead bodies. Then suddenly as the lightning flashes +the moment was upon him and the whole man’s spirit sprang to attention +and every fibre within him quivered for action. On his way out the +doctor paused by the door of the lethal chamber and Jenkins on his +way back for another body, found him standing in the hallway sniffing +delicately about him. + +“There’s a queer smell here,” he remarked. “I don’t like it. Where does +it come from?” + +As he spoke he turned the handle, pushed open the door, of the lethal +room, and--entered. Jenkins, the blood stinging in all his veins and +a great light in his brain, moved forward. He was not conscious of +movement, only of intention. Equally without consciousness of the +action, his arm shot out, his lean fingers gripped the handle. The +brain had had standing orders given it long ago and now the moment had +come, like lightning it obeyed. + +The heavy door swung to and clicked. It was shut and no earthly power +could open it from within. There was no sound. Silence fell on the +laboratory. The instant the door had closed Jenkins became a different +man. The great deed for which he had lived night and day was done, +swiftly and successfully accomplished. He held his head high. His +heart swelled within him with a joyous sense of duty done just as when +he had walked out of the enlisting office in August, 1914, a soldier +proud to die for his country. So now if he had to die on the scaffold +for this night’s work he would die proudly for he knew that the work +was good. One liar, one duper of the public, one traitor to his +country, _one_ monster of cruelty, if but one, had been put out of +existence. A great flood of joy seemed to engulf him and he stalked +forward to the pipes and tubes to turn on the taps that let in to the +chamber the deadly gasses. + +It was but the work of a few minutes, for the useful chamber was +always kept in readiness by the doctor. It might be some unexpected +visitor might call at the moment when an animal was screaming under +the doctor’s fingers and then the quickest way to obtain silence was +to throw it into the lethal room out of the way before the visitor +was admitted. Of course if it were a man of Science such a precaution +was unnecessary because he would understand that the piercing cries +only meant his fellow worker was “loving his work” and pursuing it as +usual but it might be an ordinary person who called and then ordinary +people take a different view of these things and have to be humbugged +accordingly. + +Jenkins stalked to the tubes and turned the taps full on. There were +no merciful air holes in this chamber arranged so that the air might +mix with the burning gasses and the victim may be overcome by the +mixed fumes instead of being choked and burnt to death. No, the doctor +wouldn’t have air holes and when Jenkins had pointed out to him how +twisted and contorted the bodies were that he had to remove pointing +to the fact that a very painful death had been experienced, the doctor +had gazed at him over his cigarette smoke with a mild reflective +gaze for a few seconds and then had turned away without a word. The +air holes had never been made and a grim smile hovered for a moment +over the attendant’s impassive face as he turned on the gas and then +walked away down the passage to the stairway where he sat down on the +lowest stair ... waiting, while the minutes passed. Then suddenly the +three dogs in the reserve room broke into loud and joyous barking. +Jenkins listened astonished. He had never heard them do that before. +No animal within those walls ever lifted its voice except to wail in +agony. But now? Did they know their hideous persecutor was dead? Could +they see the spirit passing? Animals have many higher gifts than man: +many instincts, many powers that are denied to him; or that he has +destroyed by his vices, which they are without. And their nearness +to the spiritual world had often struck Jenkins before. This was +extraordinary. He could hear them bounding and scuffling about in the +room giving short sharp barks of joy. Jenkins first thought was to +go in but with his hand on the door knob he paused. He had only just +lately had their dead companions in his arms. He would go and take +off his blood stained garments before meeting them, get rid of the +scent of death which they would recognize so well but he had something +to do first. He must put out of their long long suffering those poor +unfortunates that awaited in the ghastly gallery the morrow’s torture. +He switched on the lights and then entered the gallery, where the +scientist had pursued the work he loved. Jenkins could not bear to +meet the sad, glazing eyes that stared dully at him through the bars +of those cruel cages. What would he not have given to have been able +to restore the joyous healthy forms they had possessed before the +Scientist had cut and beaten and mangled and starved them out of all +resemblance to living creatures. But he was helpless, man can destroy +but he cannot create an animal. + +At last it was over. All life was extinguished and the many mangled +forms lay stretched on the cold zinc floors of their cages where they +had dragged out their existence of months and years of suffering. +Jenkins gave one glance round: his hands and feet cold but his heart +burning like a red hot coal within him. + +“This place justifies me,” he thought, “if anything is needed, this +place alone is my excuse.” + +Then he switched out the lights and death and darkness reigned supreme +in the place of agony. + +Coming out into the hall, he heard the joyous voices of the living dogs +and his face cleared a little of its gloom. He walked to the lethal +chamber and turned off the tap. Then he hurried up to his own little +flat and there soon had stove and lamp well alight. He washed and +changed his clothes rapidly. It was wonderful how light and strong he +felt. Some great pressure in the atmosphere was removed now that he +knew that evil thing was safely locked in the chamber below. Where had +the evil spirit gone? Jenkins did not know nor care. If it were about +in the house any where still Jenkins was not afraid of it. + +His conscience was so absolutely clear, his heart, his brain, all +his instincts told him he was right, that he had done well. He felt +certain that any decent man watching that fiend working day by day +would have acted as he had done, if he had stayed his hand so long. +Most men in his place would have jumped on the doctor and strangled him +when he first realised what the so-called scientist really was. No good +man who knew the truth would condemn him so his heart was light and he +had no fear of the doctor’s ghost. He would have met it cheerfully and +give it some straight talk had it ventured up the stairs. + +But no ghost or spirit came and Jenkins hurried along over his dressing +and then made his long belated tea. Then with an armful of dog biscuits +and a great jug of milk he descended to the expectant four foots below. + +The lights were burning and the place looked cosy and cheery enough. +The lethal room was there solid and silent guarding well its secrets +and the welcoming bark of the dogs hearing his footsteps resounded +through the hall. Jenkins opened the door and immediately out bounded +the dogs leaping up to and caressing him. He saw at once the difference +in them. Up to now a horror and terror had seemed to brood over them: +it was in the air of the whole place, never had they ventured before +uninvited into the hall. What they smelt, what they heard in that +accursed place had told them frightful things, though Jenkins had +guarded them all he could from that knowledge. + +Now they capered about the hall unrestrained and leapt up at Jenkins’ +side as if acclaiming him and welcoming him as their master. Jenkins, +too sad at heart for his frolicsome companion to wholly cheer, went +into their room soberly and filled all their saucers to the brim +and broke their biscuits with careful fingers. After all it was so +little that he had done! Just one of these men stopped from their +horrible work, only one out of so many. Yet little actions sometimes +had widespreading results. He wondered sadly whether by the voluntary +sacrifice of his life he could do anything, by giving himself up and +telling plainly and boldly his whole story in the dock to judge and +jury, would he accomplish anything? Would Judge and Jury listen and +believe? No, he thought not, they would be just like the lady to +whom he had restored the cat. A personal motive would be ascribed to +him for his act and Judge and Jury would only listen to the crowd of +scientists who would pack the court. They would tell the judge and jury +that animals did not feel, that when cut up alive it was done with the +greatest kindness that the vivisectors who were appointed to inspect +these places would certainly not sympathise with vivisectors working +these, that Sir Charles Smith-Brown, Dsc. M.D., L.R.C.P., etc., etc., +was the kindest man that ever breathed, that he lived only to benefit +humanity and all these lies would be believed and all this absurd +nonsense swallowed and Jenkins’ plain truth set aside and Jenkins +hanged. That would be all. As for the newspapers they would not report +a word of what Jenkins said but only what the scientists said by whom +they were paid. No to keep his life if possible and gradually try to +disseminate the truth was the only way that offered any hope. There +must be some thinking men and women in England. They could not all be +maundering fools like those that sat in Parliament and babbled about +“effective inspection of laboratories” by vivisectors and voted huge +sums of money for cancer research, _i.e._, for infecting thousands +of animals with cancer, for cultivating cancer, and thus spreading the +disease through the length and breadth of the land. + +No, he decided, slightly comforted, they couldn’t all be fools! There +must be some common sense left in England somewhere. He must try to +find it and appeal to it. + +The dogs’ supper over, he let them out for a run and then proceeded on +his rounds as usual to see all was closed for the night. There were +some letters for the doctor in the letter box and these he took out +and arranged carefully on the table under a green shaded lamp in the +doctor’s own special little study, the door of which was just opposite +the door of the lethal chamber on the other side of the hall. + +He turned out all the lights and locked all the outer doors except +the hall door which “the doctor would open with his latch key when he +returned.” + +Jenkins felt the value of knowing his story beforehand and he was +from now on going to entirely forget that the doctor’s body lay in +the lethal chamber. When it was eventually dragged out, it must be a +surprise to him. He had been told by the doctor that the latter was +going out and that he might go upstairs to his tea. That was at 6 +o’clock. He had availed himself of the permission and gone upstairs +leaving the doctor in the hall. He had not seen him since and when he +came down he concluded that the doctor had gone out and not returned. +That was going to be his story and he was going to act in every +particular as if were a true one. So he ranged the letters carefully +under the lamp tidied the doctor’s papers and left everything in order +for his return. + +At ten he went to the main door and whistled in the dogs, saw them to +their beds with many caresses, then rather wearily sought his own. + +But there was quiet and peace waiting for him to-night. No shrieks, no +groans, the dead and the living alike side by side slept soundly that +night in the laboratory. + + + CHAPTER 6 + + +Six days had elapsed and the laboratory still stood silent without a +master. Jenkins moved about in it silently as a ghost, doing everything +exactly as he would have done had he expected the doctor’s return any +minute. He had sent the three dogs down into the country by train to +the man who kept an eye on his little cottage while he was away and +who would look after them. Inwardly he was longing for it all to be +over, longing to leave this accursed spot where he had gone through +such horrible suffering. His work was all done there now. Every cage in +the long corridor had been thoroughly cleaned out: the bars polished: +the floor washed and the tiles of the corridor itself swabbed over and +rubbed to a glistening cleanliness. The doctor’s rooms were kept swept +and dusted and each day’s letters as they came in were ranged in neat +order on his writing table, with a little space between each day’s +group. The fires were lighted in the morning, the lamps lighted in the +evening. + +Jenkins waited up till ten o’clock each night. Then solemnly switched +off the lights and retired. He was pale and gaunt but not unhappy now, +as compared with his former days here. He had done what he could. It +was not much but it was something, and perhaps work lay ahead for him +in the future. Perhaps he could be instrumental in exposing this awful +vice, this cruel murderous lust that called itself Scientific Research. +He missed the three dogs enormously but here again he hugged himself +with pleasure in thinking they were safe and out of the way. + +It was just five on the Saturday evening and Jenkins was downstairs +taking his tea in the dogs’ room where he kept now his little outfit +for tea making, that he might be at hand to open the door. A ring came +and he rose at once to answer. + +“Sir C. Smith-Brown at home?” queried the thin-lipped young man who +stood outside. + +“No, sir.” + +“Oh. When do you expect him back?” + +“Any time, sir. He has not been in this week: not since Monday evening.” + +“Really? I wonder where he is then. I don’t seem able to catch him +anywhere. Did he say he was going into the country or anything?” + +Jenkins shook his head. + +“No, sir. He just left on Monday about six and said he wouldn’t want me +again that day. I expected him next morning but he didn’t come and I +haven’t seem him since.” + +“Funny! You’ve been here all the time I suppose?” + +“Oh, yes, sir, I never go out unless the doctor gives me special leave +to.” + +“Well, I’ll look up Dr. Jones and see if he’s there. Thanks, good +night.” + +The young man departed. Jenkins closed the door and went back to the +dogs’ room where he reboiled his kettle and made himself another cup of +tea. + +“That’s the beginning,” he thought to himself. “Now there’ll be a +disagreeable time I expect, and after that I’ll be free I hope,” and he +smiled to himself as he thought of the rescued dogs waiting for him in +the country. + +Jenkins was right. The search for the doctor had begun. At nine thirty, +a longer more peremptory ring sounded through the house accompanied +by a knock. He went at once to the door. The thin-lipped young man +was there but this time in company with a shortish rotund man who made +up for his insignificant stature with great pomposity of manner. As +soon as the door was opened he stepped over the threshold with a hint +of defiance in his bearing as if he expected an effort on the part of +Jenkins to keep him out and had determined it should be unsuccessful. +Jenkins inwardly amused immediately stepped back having opened the door +to its fullest extent. + +“This seems a serious affair about your master,” began his visitor. “He +is not at his house, he is not at his hospital, and you say he is not +here.” There was the faintest accent laid on the “you say.” Jenkins +looked gravely interested. + +“When did you see him last?” + +“Monday evening, sir, about six.” + +“He’s not been back since, not even looked in, eh?” + +“No, sir, I don’t think he could have. All his letters are here.” He +stepped to the study door and threw it open, switching on the light. +The neat cosy little room stood revealed very orderly. On the table +under the green shaded lamp lay the doctor’s letters ranged in their +little groups according to the day of their arrival. + +The doctor’s chair was drawn toward the hearth, neatly swept up where a +small fire burnt primly. + +The two visitors peered into the room, the rotund Dr. Jones went up to +the table and fingered one or two of the letters as if he hoped to +gain information from them. + +“Such an exact man, such a precise man, I can’t understand his going +off like this for six days and telling nobody.” + +He stared hard at Jenkins who returned his gaze with a slightly +distressed expression but made no reply. + +“Well, I think I and my friend would like just to look through the +place,” Jones continued, his manner something between embarrassment and +aggression. + +“We should feel more satisfied you know and something might strike us +as a clue to his disappearance.” + +Jenkins assented at once. + +“Do, sir, will you go round alone or shall I come with you?” + +“Oh, you come along by all means,” Jones answered and the three of +them came out of the study into the hall again. Jenkins opened the +next door that of the cold long gallery where the agonized animals had +suffered such hideous miseries. Here there were no fires: the air was +deadly chill and still foul, or so it seemed to Jenkins, the electric +light fell wanly on the white walls, the lofty arched roof and the cold +glistening tiles of the floor. + +Jones advanced. Then stopped short with an exclamation as his eye +caught the long row of empty silent cages. + +“What’s this? Got rid of his animals? Why that looks as if he knew he +were not coming back! What do you thing of that Edward?” he addressed +his companion. + +“Looks like it,” he replied laconically. + +“When did the doctor dispose of his animals?” asked Jones wheeling +round upon Jenkins. + +“He’d been using them up for some time, sir,” answered Jenkins, “and +last week he said he’d finish with all he’d got and have a fresh stock +in and I was to clean out all the cages and have them ready for a new +lot.” + +“Oh, he said that, did he?” returned Jones. “Hm--hm--hm. Well, let’s go +on down to the end. See if he’s left a note or anything on the table.” + +The three men filed down the cold long room to the end where behind +the screen which helped to shut this part off from the corridor stood +the doctor’s armchair close to the hearth. The heavy writing table was +covered with papers all neatly piled and arranged. Everything was neat +and in order all most carefully dusted. The large inkstand carefully +polished and a tray of freshly nibbed pens awaited the doctor’s return. +Evidently his servant had expected him back. + +Dr. Jones looked disconsolately over the table. There was no note or +letter there. The last thing apparently that the doctor had written was +a chemical equation, drawn out on a half sheet of notepaper. This lay +on the blotting pad, carefully preserved by the invaluable Jenkins. + +Dr. Jones looked at it and then laughed. To those who know how to read +the ciphers it represented a burning solution, designed to separate +living flesh from living bone. + +“Well nothing here, Edward, we’ll go upstairs,” and following Jenkins, +upstairs they went. They tramped through the doctor’s comfortable +little suite above, looking in cupboards and under the bed and finding +nothing but order and extreme cleanliness everywhere. + +After that Jenkins’ rooms were entered and searched but the simple +furniture and narrow bed were soon looked over and under. The dog’s +room, the bathroom, the landings the little coal cellar: they searched +all most thoroughly expecting as it seemed to Jenkins to find the +doctor’s body concealed somewhere and possibly swinging behind some +door. Dr. Jones seemed to have jumped to the conclusion that it was a +case of suicide. + +“I can’t understand his stopping all his experiments and giving up all +the animals like that,” Jenkins heard him remark to his friend. “Looks +like suicide, ’pon my word it does.” + +Their search yielded nothing however and at last with a curt goodnight +to Jenkins they left, passing by the lethal chamber on their way out. + +“Fools,” thought Jenkins as he closed the door after them. + +After that there was no more tranquility at the laboratory. The +bell was frequently being rung, people came to enquire, Jenkins was +interviewed by various persons, asked the same questions over and over +again and told the same lies in answer with commendable consistency. + +The papers now had got hold of the story and devoted large spaces to +the mysterious disappearance of the famous scientist. Reporters came +to see Jenkins and to hear repeated the few simple sentences he could +tell them. But to these reporters he added to his story accounts of +the doctor’s doings and took the reporters in to see the vivisecting +troughs and all the ghastly instruments of torture that are the stock +in trade of the Scientific Researcher. But though they looked open eyed +and open mouthed on these gruesome objects and wandered up and down the +long gallery reading the incriminating labels on the empty cages never +a word of any of these things appeared in their reports in the papers +as Jenkins vainly hoped. + +In talking to them, he naturally had to preserve the stolid +indifference of manner that had been his mask so long and appear to +think all this scientific atrocity in order and he could feel that +even these light headed and unthinking young men shrank away from him +in loathing. At such times Jenkins would feel a madness of longing to +shake them by the hand and urge them to carry his message to the world +but all this he crushed down. To show the least disapprobation of the +doctor’s doings, to be anything but the servile laboratory attendant +would attract suspicion to himself, perhaps fasten the noose round his +neck. So he bore their evident contempt and disgust with himself as +he had borne all the rest of his sufferings in that place without a +sign and in their attitude to him he had a certain rejoicing. It gave a +glimmer of hope for the future. + +“Catch me giving a penny of _my_ money to Cancer Research after +this,” he heard one of the men say to his companion as they went out +and his heart warmed with hope. + +Alas! the next morning in the very paper which had sent these two to +report there was a glowing article upon the doctor’s work, his superb +labours for humanity and all the rest of the unutterable twaddle with +which Jenkins was by now so familiar. Days passed and still nothing was +heard of the eminent scientist, the Press made all they could out of +his disappearance, it was the favorite topic of the clubs and dinner +parties. He had simply vanished and public interest and excitement +skilfully fanned by the papers waxed and grew. + +On the second Saturday after his disappearance just when Editors were +thinking out a new headline, the favorite Possible Clue found to +the Smith-Brown Mystery, having been rather overworked the end came +abruptly. + +At nine in the morning Jenkins opened the door to a small group of men +led by a man in an inconspicuous uniform. + +“I am a police inspector and have a warrant to search these premises.” + +“Yes, sir,” returned Jenkins simply. There was nothing very new in +that. “This is the doctor’s study sir,” he said, throwing open the +door as he had done before for Dr. Jones. + +The Inspector just glanced that way. Then he stepped up to the door on +the other side of the hall. + +“What’s this?” + +Jenkins turned back to him. + +“That’s the lethal chamber, sir.” + +The Inspector put his hand on the handle, turned it and pushed the +door. It resisted and as he pushed it more there was the soft heavy +sound of some inert thing being moved within. + +“Stand back, gentlemen, please,” he said as the little group pressed +forward, and turned his electric torch into the black aperture made +by the partially opened door. The white light gushed in and its broad +streak fell on the large head and upturned face of the doctor. Mouth +wide open as he died gasping, eyes bulging in a last grisley stare. +There was a gasp of horror from the onlookers as they drew back, a +sickly odour stealing out from the little room and enveloping them. + +The Inspector seemed the only man unmoved. He ordered one of his men to +support the door that it should not close and two others to follow him. +Then he went in and the three of them brought out the doctor’s body +between them into the hall and laid it down. It was horribly contorted +as if the man had died writhing. + +Jenkins turned away. He knew the look so well, just so all knotted +with agony, had the poor little monkeys been when he drew them out +from where they had huddled against the door or walls. The Inspector +touched his arm. + +“This must be very painful to you,” he said kindly, touched by the +woebegone look of Jenkins’ gaunt wasted face. + +“We do not need you for the moment. I shall have some questions to ask +you presently but don’t stand here now. Go into the next room and sit +down.” + +“Thank you, sir,” replied Jenkins brokenly and went. + +Nothing could have been better nor convinced the Inspector more +completely of his entire innocence of any participation in the doctor’s +death but it was not pose on Jenkin’s part. In truth, physically he +felt he could not stand much more of nervous strain and mentally he +felt actually crushed with grief, though it was not as the Inspector +supposed for his master, but for the countless little victims that +master had so wantonly destroyed. + +After a time the Inspector came to him and examined him. He questioned +him and cross-questioned him but Jenkins made no mistakes. His short +simple sentences, his direct replies, his simple manner, even his +wooden face all together produced the impression of a man, unlikely +to do anything exceptional and original. He seemed to be the typical +routine worker and wholly unconnected with the tragic event of his +master’s death. + +At the inquest a verdict of Death from Misadventure, the doctor having +been overcome by the old gas fumes remaining in the unventilated +chamber, was returned and Jenkins after his evidence was allowed to +leave for his home, unsuspected and unopposed. + +Down in his tiny cottage, one evening, before a blazing fire, where his +three dogs lay extended in dozing comfort, sitting by the table with +his pot of tea beside him, he was somewhat laboriously reading a dull +newspaper until his eyes caught these astounding head lines: + +New Crusade for the Churches. 1,000,000 pounds appeal. Science and +Religion to co-operate. + +Looking through the article he gathered that clergymen in all the +churches were to preach to their congregations on the beauty and virtue +of Scientific Research and raise a million pounds to be spent upon it. +It was stated their scheme had the warm approval of the doctors. A +little lower down he came on this paragraph: + +“There is no more noble example of selfless service on behalf of +humanity than the men and women engaged in Research work,” and a little +lower down still these same men and women were described as “dedicated +spirits giving themselves as instruments into the hands of God, that +His Will may be done upon Earth.” + +After reading this Jenkins sat back in his chair and remembered the +doctor giving measles to his monkeys, filling cats with water till they +burst and infecting healthy animals with cancer which never becomes +human cancer and starving dogs to give them rickets. + +“And the church now is going to help,” he muttered. “Good Lord and Good +Lord and Good Lord--” + + + + + =TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES= + + +Simple typographical errors have been silently corrected; unbalanced +quotation marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and +otherwise left unbalanced. + +Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant +preference was found in the original book; otherwise they were not +changed. + +Inconsistent hyphens left as printed. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75691 *** diff --git a/75691-h/75691-h.htm b/75691-h/75691-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b929a5f --- /dev/null +++ b/75691-h/75691-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7067 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The Beating Heart | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +/* General headers */ + +h1 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h2 { + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; + text-indent: 1.5em; +} + +.nindc {text-align:center; text-indent:0;} + +.large {font-size: 125%;} + +.space-above2 { margin-top: 2em; } +.space-below2 { margin-bottom: 2em; } + +.spa1 { + margin-top: 1em + } + +hr { + width: 33%; 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padding-left: 0;} +li {list-style-type: none; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2.5em; text-align: left;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + +/* Images */ + +img {max-width: 100%; width: 100%; height: auto;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75691 ***</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="nindc"><span class="large">THE BEATING HEART</span></p> +</div> + + +<figure class="figcenter" id="cover" style="width: 1637px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="1637" height="2560" alt="After a rocky divorce, 17-year-old Evan's mother buys a Victorian fixer-upper where she can write and, with Evan and his young sister Libby, make a home."> +</figure> + + +<h1>The Beating Heart</h1> + + +<p class="nindc"><span class="allsmcap">BY</span></p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2"><span class="large">VICTORIA CROSS</span></p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2"> +<i>Author of “Anna Lombard,” “Five Nights,” “Life’s Shopwindow,”<br> +“Over Life’s Edge,” etc.</i></p> + + +<figure class="figcenter" id="logo" style="width: 250px;"> + <img src="images/logo.jpg" width="250" height="343" alt="decorative"> +</figure> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2"> +<span class="allsmcap">NEW YORK</span><br> +BRENTANO’S<br> +<span class="allsmcap">PUBLISHERS</span></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="nindc"> +<span class="allsmcap">COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY</span><br> +VIVIEN CORY GRIFFIN</p> + + +<hr class="r5"> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2">All rights reserved</p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2"> +<i>Printed in the United States of America</i></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tbody><tr> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdr"> <span class="allsmcap">PAGE</span></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">1.</td> +<td class="tdlh">The Kiss in the Wilderness</td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">2.</td> +<td class="tdlh">Colour</td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">3.</td> +<td class="tdlh">A Novel Elopement</td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">4.</td> +<td class="tdlh">The Jewel Casket</td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">5.</td> +<td class="tdlh">The Vengeance of Pasht</td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">6.</td> +<td class="tdlh">Village Passion</td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">7.</td> +<td class="tdlh">Supping with the Devil</td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> +</tr> +</tbody> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="nindc space-above2"> +<i>The Heart can beat with</i></p> +</div> + + +<div class="flex-center"> +<ul><li>LOVE</li> +<li>DESIRE</li> +<li>PITY</li> +<li>SYMPATHY</li> +<li>FEAR</li> +<li>JEALOUSY</li> +<li>INDIGNATION</li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_KISS_IN_THE_WILDERNESS">THE KISS IN THE WILDERNESS</h2> +</div> + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2">BY</p> + +<p class="nindc">VICTORIA CROSS</p> + + +<p>They were coming up in a closed carriage from Jerico, a jolly, merry, +roystering crowd. Melisande whose real name was Eliza, late of the +Gaiety theatre, now married to a millionaire, Lord and Lady Hillingford +on their honeymoon, an old bachelor Major keen on reckless adventure, +and Miss Smith.</p> + +<p>To pass the time they were singing comic songs with resounding chorus, +which floated out of the open windows and echoed strangely from the +stony hills of the wide stretching barren wilderness that lies between +Jerico and Jerusalem.</p> + +<p>It was a brilliant night with a huge silver moon at the full hanging in +the sky above sending its floods of light down upon the lonely waste, +in which there was no tree nor flower nor bird: yet something moved at +intervals, a curious low four-footed shape with sloping spine and coat +so cunningly contrived in spots and lines of brown and white that it +matched exactly the patchy, stony hills and clefts and crannies amongst +the rocks through which the creatures flitted with their elusive +movements.</p> + +<p>The exhilarated crowd within the carriage took no notice except one, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span> +Miss Smith who was always an exception to whatever the rest might do or +be.</p> + +<p>The supper at the Jerico Inn before their start had been good with +copious libations of the rich Greek wine and now Melisande’s golden +head was leaning on Hillingford’s shoulder while she shrilled out the +chorus from her coral mouth and the millionaire’s arm was round Lady +Hillingford’s neck and the Greek wine no doubt was to blame if she was +too confused to notice it wasn’t her husband’s arm. The old Major was +frankly overcome and curled up in a quiescent ball in his corner of +the great roomy old carriage, only Miss Smith sat quiet and sedate in +her grey travelling dress watching the shapes flitting among the rocks +in the moonlight. They were hyaenas Miss Smith knew what they were. +She was not intoxicated, she was not sleepy. She was not singing comic +songs. She sat up straight, alert and watchful.</p> + +<p>Her companions did not heed her. They generally left her alone +recognizing that while with them she was not of them. At the same time +they did not object to her. No one ever objected to Miss Smith. They +teased her goodnaturedly because she never drank, smoked, flirted nor +swore as they did and used to read and study dingy brown books in +the queer languages of the country and she as goodnaturedly smiled +and continued to pursue her own quiet way. Among other women she was +generally passed over and ignored and considered unattractive because +she was generally termed “good” and in these days to be a good woman, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> +is not attractive. A beautiful woman, a fast woman, a fascinating +woman, a wicked woman, any adjective almost, sounds interesting but +good no. So once having dubbed her good everyone let her alone and she +was allowed to wear her crown of Virtue unchallenged and undisturbed.</p> + +<p>In person she was rather tall and slender and affected quiet +well-fitting tailor made clothes. Her hair was of a warm brown shade +and very thick but so quietly done, pressed close to her small head +that no one looked twice at it while the frizzed out golden curls, +now getting thin from over much dying that flared in a halo round +Melisande’s head drew every eye. Miss Smith’s skin was cool and pale, +her eye grave and grey a different thing altogether from the sunny +saucy laughing blue beloved by man. Yet the eye had beauty in its +calm repose like a clear deep pool in a shady wood. She was 36 though +she looked only about 26 and her present and future had been kindly +settled for her as old maid by her friends. When she had first joined +the touring party, both the married men had attempted to flirt with +her after the way of married men but Miss Smith did not care for +flirtations with married men and did not want the attentions of the old +bachelor Major Mitchell who gallantly offered them. What she did want +was locked up in her own soul.</p> + +<p>She had been proposed to at 16 and had accepted. He was a young man +her father’s secretary. The engagement had pursued a tranquil and as +Miss Smith privately thought a disappointing course until one evening +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> +when as he was leaving her after much long and as she thought boring +conversation, she ventured to whisper softly as he took her hand in +farewell “Kiss me.”</p> + +<p>Instantly she was enfolded in his arms and a kiss pressed upon her +lips, not an irreverent one but one full of force and electric fire +and pressed down so hard that her lips were painfully crushed upon her +teeth, under it. When he let her go suddenly she was absolutely white +dazed and breathless and involuntarily sank down on the chair nearest +her.</p> + +<p>The young man’s face was white too as they stared for a moment at each +other in silence. Not a word was spoken. He retreated silently, swiftly +to the door and vanished through it. She sat still where she was +until the beating of her heart grew calmer and allowed her to get up. +Then as the sense of physical shock passed she smiled. That had been +delightful! That was Life! That was Love! That moment compensated her +for the preceding boring weeks of her engagement. In that moment she +had had her first insight into that stupendous joy that we share with +the animals and primitive man alike. Perverted, degraded, chained and +beaten down out of sight, as the sexual instinct is by civilization, +there are still moments like these of innocent youthful joy in which we +see the face of Nature for an instant and realise her tremendous power.</p> + +<p>Little Christine Smith went to bed that night profoundly happy. +Engagements were not stupid after all. Life was not all dullness. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> +Poets and novelists were right. There was something in existence which +was marvelous and golden and glowing and it was love. She adored her +fiance now. Had he not in that electric wonderful kiss shown her the +majestic Force that he represented? It was overaweing, inspiring. All +night she dreamt innocently happily of the kiss that had lifted her to +heaven. In the morning there was a letter from him.</p> + +<p>Trembling and flushing she had carried it to her room to read alone. +His prayer no doubt to her to hasten their marriage so that there might +be more and more and more of those heavenly moments. But the letter +was not that. <i>It was an apology.</i> A craving of pardon for that +kiss. A promise that if forgiven he would never, never ever again. +Christine could not understand. Grown cold and white she read that +astounding letter over and over again and the more she read it the less +she understood it. What did he mean? What was wrong? Why was the kiss +wrong? It was not, her common sense told her that. It had been just +the revelation of his love for her in all its splendid strength and +ardour and she loved him for it, and now here was this stupid letter in +which he painted himself as a sort of criminal. She was dumbfounded. +But one thing was clear. He evidently thought the kiss was very wicked +and if she did not agree then he would think her very wicked also. +Christine sat very still and cold thinking, the gay mirage that Nature +had flung all about her dissipated and gone. Her primitive instincts +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> +urged her to go to him and tell him he was mistaken. The kiss was +Right and he must take her in his arms and kiss her again and again in +exactly the same way give her again that wonderful glimpse of a golden +and rose-coloured world of ecstasy. But civilised 16 is rather shy. +Christine shrank from facing that cold condemnation that was in the +letter, turned upon herself. It seemed so impossible to explain, to +find the words to fit all those myriad feelings leaping within herself. +She was afraid he would not understand.</p> + +<p>At last after hours of thought she folded the letter and put it away. +He had said he would come that evening to hear her say she forgave him. +She decided she must say nothing but extend to him her pardon as he +desired.</p> + +<p>For months the engagement went on. Christine secretly hoped that once +again his feelings might betray him and that glorious moment come again +but it never did.</p> + +<p>The engagement was finally broken off and not by him. Christine told +him gently that she feared they hardly understood each other well +enough for marriage.</p> + +<p>The young man mournfully and humbly accepted her decree. To this day he +believes that it was that fatal moment (to her so ecstatic) that was +his undoing.</p> + +<p>There had been several engagements since then on the same dull formal +lines and terminated in the same way by her. They had not contained +any whirling moments such as the one she had experienced and for the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> +return of which she waited confidently as an astronomer for the return +of a comet. This time when it came....</p> + +<p>Meanwhile she was not unhappy. She was strong and fleet of foot and +clear of eye. She had perfect health in a splendid well knit frame and +life was sweet and all the days of this tour through Palestine had been +very bright and fair.</p> + +<p>She had enjoyed especially this just finished visit to Jerico, going +down from Jerusalem in the early summer when the heat was so deadly +that not a soul except their own reckless party would venture down +there.</p> + +<p>The Hotel keeper at Jerusalem had begged them not to go! The season +for it was over the heat far too great but they had laughed at him. +They had been so cooked they declared a temperature of 110° could not +frighten them and the idea of going down down to the scorching plain +of Jerico, to the borders of the Dead Sea beneath which lay the sinful +Cities of the Plain had a delightful fascination in it.</p> + +<p>The road the landlord urged was extremely dangerous. It lay through +the wilderness and at this time the Bedouin Arabs were travelling up +and down. Caravans and long lines of them fully armed might be met at +any point. If go they must an escort of two armed soldiers would be +provided for them by the Government. What would be the good of two +soldiers against a band of robbers? Hillingford had asked and the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> +landlord had explained “If you have Turkish soldiers with you, no +matter how few, it shows you are under the protection of the Sultan of +Turkey the head of their religion the Sheik-Islam: they will not lift a +hand against their own chief. No one will touch you.”</p> + +<p>The party consented to take the escort but at the last moment it +did not arrive and they would not wait. Finally to the sound of +lamentations from their host, they drove away, in the capacious vehicle +with a good pair of horses and a single unarmed man as driver. They +went by night to avoid the blinding heat of the sun and here they were +returning by night by moonlight and the moonlight that falls on the +plain of Jerico and on the stony wilderness around it is as hot as +English sunlight. The party were well pleased with their visit they had +enjoyed it especially Miss Smith. She had liked the journey down down +into the simmering bowl of heat, at the bottom of which lay the rich +verdant tree filled plain of Jerico and the sparkling blue Salt Lake +called the Dead Sea.</p> + +<p>The Jerico Inn kept by a Greek where they stayed was a low white +building of immensely thick walls and almost hidden from view under +the shade of a gigantic fig tree whose wide spreading massive thick +leaved boughs filled the court yard with deep delicious shadow green +and cool. Here, on their arrival after midnight they had sat and supped +at a table neatly spread with bread and cheese and fruit and great jars +of honey and the rich heady wines of Greece and while the others had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> +rioted and jested and laughed and kissed Miss Smith had sat gazing up +through the fig leaves to where between them here and there a great +planet burned fiercely in the sky uneclipsed even by the silver light +of the moon. She was enjoying it all in her deep calm soul. The next +morning the rioters slept late in the cool stone chambers of the inn, +but she was up while the larks were singing overhead and the whole +fair plain of Jerico was smiling in fresh dew and early light. Alone +and unafraid and unmolested she found her way down to the edge of the +sparkling sea, undressed and bathed in its wonderful blue and limpid +waters that would not let her sing and clung round her snowy throat and +limbs like the heaviest thickest oil.</p> + +<p>Miss Smith thought of all these things now in pleasant retrospect as +the carriage lumbered along slowly up the stony road between the hills.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a sharp sound the crack of a rifle came stinging through the +silence, followed by a terrible thud in front of the carriage. Their +driver, doubled up in a sort of ball, fell from his seat and then +rolled heavily to the ground, the reins still in his hands. The horses +plunged and shied a little as his body fell close by their heels, but +they were too hot and weary in that long upward climb to run away. +They were startled frightened, something had happened but fatigue was +greater than any other feeling. They stopped dead still with heaving +sweating sides.</p> + +<p>The instant the carriage stopped, the occupants who had by now sung +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> +themselves into a state of lethargy, woke up with a shock and the men +began to get out. Miss Smith had descended on her side and was first at +the side of the fallen driver.</p> + +<p>Miss Smith knew all about first aid and she saw here there was no aid +to be given. The man was dead. The old Major came to her side. He also +knew death when he saw it. “God bless me!” he ejaculated. “This is +dreadful, poor fellow! Poor fellow! What’s it all mean, eh?”</p> + +<p>Miss Smith did not answer, she was looking through the silver space to +a long broken line of rocks some 200 yards away. From these, men were +running up to them. In a few moments it seemed the carriage in which +the two women still sat, huddled together, was surrounded by a circle +of Bedouin Arabs. Each one carried a rifle in one hand and a short +knife was thrust into the broad sash folded many times round their +waist.</p> + +<p>Thought is very quick and Miss Smith had time to think even in that +alarming moment how handsome and picturesque a crowd they were. Their +dark faces were finely carved and featured with brilliant flashing +eyes and teeth. On their heads they wore what looked like two enormous +rolls of coloured cord, deep red and blue, forming a sort of turban and +falling in a twist on their shoulders at the back. A vest of coloured +silk and purple Zouave jacket, wide sash and cartridge belt, and loose +crimson trousers to somewhat below the knee made up a costume worn with +extraordinary grace on beautiful and stately figures of about average +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> +height. These men were not specially tall but extremely lithe and well +proportioned. They closed round the little English group as leopards +encircle antelope. Two of them between them carried the soft limp body +of a shot hyaena. They laid it down by the body of the driver. Miss +Smith stooped for a moment and stroked softly the exquisite white fur +on its chest. Then she straightened herself and looked round on the +circle of eager dark faces and asked them in Arabic what they wanted.</p> + +<p>And then the whole English party realised that they were helpless and +useless in this emergency except for this slim quiet serene person, +whom they had laughed at and ignored. She was now the mistress of the +situation. Their lives and safety lay in her hands. They could only +stand by gaping helplessly while she, thanks to her dingy brown books, +parleyed with their enemies.</p> + +<p>It looked as if they were in an appalling mess and they depended on her +now to get them out of it. The women in the carriage put scared white +faces out of the window.</p> + +<p>“What do they say, the scoundrels?” queried the Major after Christine +in her musical voice had exchanged some sentences with the leader. To +Major Mitchell the best man living, if he had a dark skin, was always a +scoundrel.</p> + +<p>“He says they had no intention of killing our driver,” she replied, +“but a shot ricochetted from a rock that was aimed at a hyaena.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh come that’s good!” said Hillingford, “well then can they help us to +get on anywhere?”</p> + +<p>“You must remember that is what they <i>say</i>,” she returned calmly +and then she resumed conversing with the Arab leader, while the women +in the carriage shivered in the heat and the English men cursed +themselves inwardly for having come without the Government guard. The +millionaire stole close to Christine’s side. “Offer them anything, +<i>anything</i>, a thousand, ten thousand, if we get safely back to +Jerusalem,” he whispered shakily. Christine turned her clear eyes upon +him. “I do not think <i>money</i> is what they want,” she replied +regarding him steadily. What she thought they did want she did not say.</p> + +<p>John Briggs, millionaire, stepped back, white under his Eastern +sunburn. His money had smoothed out most ruts in his life. Was it going +to fail him now? He glanced at the other two men and it was three very +pinched looking faces that stared at each other in the moonlight, +while the long glistening barrels of the rifles held by the Arabs +sides, almost touched them as the circle drew nearer and the dark +eager countenances with their glittering eyes and teeth came thrusting +themselves close up to their shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Ugly business Jack,” muttered Hillingford.</p> + +<p>“Scoundrels,” repeated the Major whose vocabulary was limited, +clenching his fists.</p> + +<p>“This is just what the landlord said. Fools we were not to take his +advice,” said Briggs savagely.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> + +<p>Then they were silent. Christine had finished a long talk with the +leading Arab and had now turned to them.</p> + +<p>“They say they don’t want money nor anything we have with us. That they +are not robbers and that the shooting of our driver was an accident. As +they have killed him however, they can do nothing without their Sheik’s +orders. He is called Sheik Lasrali and he has a tent pitched some +distance from here in the wilderness and we must all go there with them +and hear his orders.”</p> + +<p>“What cheek! The scoundrels,” burst out the Major. Christine’s even +brows contracted a little.</p> + +<p>“Do be careful Major and control yourself,” she said, “We are in a bad +enough position as it is, don’t make it worse.”</p> + +<p>“How are we to get to this Lasrali?” asked Hillingford.</p> + +<p>“We must walk,” returned Christine and he thought how well she showed +up, standing there in the moonlight, wholly undismayed, quite calm +and mistress of herself and talking easily and clearly that difficult +gutteral tongue which he had given up studying in despair.</p> + +<p>“We have no driver,” she went on, “and if we had the carriage couldn’t +go over that rough ground. It would be overturned directly. We have +got to go back some distance in that direction.” She pointed far back +across the stony waste towards the plain of Jerico whence they had come +and the travellers groaned involuntarily. To go back! Further away +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> +from the city with its law and order and protection, further into this +savage desolation where the moonlight showed nothing but rocks and +stones where even the rough rocky grass struggled in vain for existence +and here and there bleached bones showed whitely on the ground.</p> + +<p>“There is no help for it” she said merely and turned to the carriage. +The women in it were sitting white faced and silent but like English +women faced with grave emergency their courage rose to meet it. There +was no complaint, no shrinking back. They opened the door of the +carriage and stepped down on to the stony ground without a word.</p> + +<p>The vehicle was packed in all its corners with small handbags and +cases, extra cloaks and wraps and sunshades. The Arabs peered in +curiously jabbering amongst themselves. There was a hasty consultation +between the travellers as to whether they could carry anything with +them. The Gaiety girl, Melisande, prayed for her handbag. It had all +her make up in it. Lady Hillingford could not bear parting from her +small flat case. Hillingford hastily opened his bag and extracted his +favorite razor. Miss Smith went to hers and pulled out her Arabic +dictionary.</p> + +<p>“Don’t take much,” she advised. “It’s so hot and we have a long way to +walk. The Arabs are going to leave a guard and the carriage and all +its contents will be perfectly safe. I have told them we must take the +horses out and take them with us. The Sheik will have water and food +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> +and rest when we get there.”</p> + +<p>While the women fussed over their luggage, anxious as human beings +always are about trifles even with the great issues of life and death +hanging over them, and the Arabs sat down a little way off watching +them with an amused smile curling their dark lips and their rifles held +across their knees, the three men and Christine stood for a moment +together at the horses’ heads.</p> + +<p>“I wonder whether we’re wise,” Hillingford asked, “in giving in like +this? Suppose we said we would not go?”</p> + +<p>“The alternative is for us all to sit here under a guard while two +of the Arabs go off with a message to the Sheik and ask for orders.” +Christine answered, she had evidently discussed this with the chief +already, “but you see he might be ages coming back. Perhaps he wouldn’t +come till the morning and we’d get awfully tired waiting here and the +horses would get no water. Then he says the Sheik would be sure to send +for us, so we’d have to go in the end.”</p> + +<p>“Why should he send for us, damn him?” This from the Major.</p> + +<p>“The leader says he would not mind the men going on but he would be +sure to want to see the three ladies!”</p> + +<p>“Scoundrel!” shouted the Major.</p> + +<p>“I think we had better go and make no trouble about it,” said +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> +Christine, “we may be able to reason things out with Lasrali.”</p> + +<p>The men nodded. There seemed no way out. An Arab came up and took out +the two horses, weary and dejected with the long toil. Christine patted +their necks and the Arab led them off the roadway. Next came another +Arab strung about with various small articles belonging to the English +that he had been deputed to carry by the leader. Hillingford and his +wife followed, then Briggs and Melisande, then the Major and Christine +and this small column of English was flanked on each side by a guard of +six Arabs.</p> + +<p>Christine turned and glanced back as they were starting. Two motionless +Arabs sat on the box seat of the carriage, their rifles on their knees. +Side by side on the ground lay the dead driver and the dead hyaena +mingling their blood in a small dark pool on the road.</p> + +<p>Out into the wilderness. Away from even the road, that wild desolate +and inhospitable as it is, has at least, each end in civilization. +But in the wilderness itself that stretches between the proud city of +Jerusalem and the fair plain of Jerico there one can see the face of +Loneliness itself and feel Starvation and Death lurking among those +never ending ridges of whitish rock rising from the arid, waterless +plain. The African desert with its soft films of sand, its glorious +mirage seems homelike by contrast with it. The American desert with +unbroken miles of sagebrush and its alkali pools seems inviting ground +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> +in comparison. In the wilderness there is nothing but solitude and +stone and hyaenas grown fat on the corpses of wayfarers.</p> + +<p>Doggedly and in silence the little party went on. The two wives in +their thin high heeled shoes and silk stockings suffered most. The +men and Christine walked easily on flat heels over the loose stones +and uneven surface. But no one of them made any sound of discontent. +Melisande and Eva Hillingford stumbled along awkwardly and painfully +but bravely and the curls on their forehead and the silk blouses on +their chests were soaked through with sweat in the hot still air.</p> + +<p>Apprehension as to their possible fate had got its teeth well into them +now. Leaving the road, their only friend and guide, had brought them +to a sense of their utter helplessness. Even if left now unmolested, +they could not find their way back to it, they could only wander about +amongst these everlasting gleaming rocks, each one exactly like another +till they died.</p> + +<p>After a little while physical fatigue and pain shut out much reflection +on other things. They were intolerably thirsty and their limbs ached +from that curious rough walking similar to going up hill on an English +beach. The Arabs were not inconsiderate and did not even hurry them. +Only once when the Major lagged behind one of the guard pressing on +their heels poked the nuzzle of a rifle against his shoulder blades. +After that, rather than have it happen again, he stepped out more +briskly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p> + +<p>The first light of the dawn showed faintly in the East, when the Arab +leader pointed out to the white weary crowd toiling on some large dark +objects not very far away.</p> + +<p>“Lasrali’s tents,” he said.</p> + +<p>It seemed as they came nearer quite a large encampment altogether a +great number of tents pitched near to a ridge of rock which slightly +overhanging made a sort of rough shed. Against this were grouped +various animals, camels, horses, donkeys and goats, some lying down +others standing round a heap of fodder put down for them. Christine +went forward and spoke earnestly with the Arab leading the horses: +making him promise to allow them to lie down and to give them plenty +of food and water as they could take it. He laughed showing all his +glittering teeth in the bright moonlight.</p> + +<p>“Lasrali would be very angry with me if I did not look after them. He +loves horses.” What a relief those words carried to her mind. A man who +loved horses could not be wholly bad. She fell back and told the good +news to the others. They were just on the outside of the encampment +now. Most of its occupants had retired apparently, but a long line of +cooking fires burnt redly still upon the ground. The chief man who +had so far all along spoken with Christine, gave his charges over to +the guard and disappeared into the largest of the tents to know his +master’s wishes. It was only a few minutes before he returned and +ushered them all in, holding back the tent flaps for them and then +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> +bringing up the rear himself.</p> + +<p>It was a large and roomy tent well carpeted and with masses of silken +cushions lying about. Also there were little tables at which if sitting +on a cushion on the floor, one could comfortably write and read.</p> + +<p>Lasrali himself was seated in one of those capacious black wood chairs +inlaid with mother of pearl, so familiar in Damascus. Wearing a snow +white burnous, edged with gold embroidery and a gold band encircling +the hood of it, just above his black brows he presented a kingly +and dignified appearance. His face was handsome in the typical Arab +way. Olive skinned and oval with refined aristocratic features and +large dark eyes. In age he appeared about 38. In one rather white and +slender hand he held a long stemmed pipe which he appeared to have been +peacefully smoking when disturbed.</p> + +<p>As soon as the worn weary captives were ushered in, he rose from his +seat, bowed slightly and then immediately resumed it, ordering one of +his Arabs to bring forward cushions for his visitors. When these were +brought the three women sank down gratefully upon them, the men taking +their stand behind them until Lasrali waved them with a more decided +gesture to be seated also. Then he called up the leader to stand beside +him, and set himself to listen attentively to the man’s story, pulling +occasionally at his pipe and asking now and then a quiet question.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p> + +<p>The Arab leader went on with his interminable relation for endless time +as it seemed to the wearied English. With the exception of Miss Smith, +they could none of them understand a word and they were so dazed and +sleepy with heat and fatigue that the conversation came to their ears +only in an unmeaning blur. Christine was tired too, but her head was +clear and she sat bright eyed and upright on her cushion listening +intently to every word that was uttered. Much of the conversation’s +meaning she missed of course. It is impossible for a stranger however +well he knows a language to catch all that passes between two others, +not addressing him but talking rapidly to each other, but the drift of +it she gathered very well. At one time when the leader said something +as to money she took her courage in both hands and ventured to +re-inforce his statement.</p> + +<p>“There is a gentleman here,” she said, indicating Briggs, “who will pay +anything you like to ask in money for our release.”</p> + +<p>Lasrali regarded her in silence but did not reply and the leader turned +on her saying:</p> + +<p>“My master is very rich man, he does not seek money. He might be +pleased however to take a white wife.”</p> + +<p>“The dream of my life has been to win a white woman who is also a +lady,” supplemented Lasrali in a very low tone, “no sum of money can +weigh against such a dream.”</p> + +<p>Christine did not translate any of these sentences into English. They +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> +sank into her heart and set it beating. In defiance of something within +her that seemed holding her back, she seized hold of the old phrases +and stated them as one who speaks from a sense of duty.</p> + +<p>“The English are a mighty people. We are few but if any of us are +injured, a great army will come to avenge us.”</p> + +<p>She thought she saw the faint flicker of a smile pass over Lasrali’s +face that he was too courteous to wholly indulge in. The leader was not +so ceremonious however. He laughed openly.</p> + +<p>“Your country used to be great and protect its subjects. It is too +lazy to do that now. Besides my master cannot be found in his native +mountains and the captive men would be killed and scattered to the +winds of heaven long before help came and the captive women would be—”</p> + +<p>The expression made the blood fly flaming all over Christine’s face and +Lasrali sharply reprimanded the Arab leader.</p> + +<p>“Do not talk to the lady at all,” he said with anger. “Confine your +conversation to me,” and he motioned him to come closer to his chair.</p> + +<p>After a long discussion between them Lasrali at last waved him to one +side and addressing Christine direct asked her and the other two ladies +to get up and approach him. This they did, Christine springing up at +once and the other two wearily dragging themselves to their feet. +Then they stood in a line before him and the Arab regarded them all +with grave attentive eyes. Dusty and tired, with rumpled hair and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> +damp faces, in their rather bright coloured clothes, hatless and with +arms and necks bare in the intense heat, neither Lady Hillingford who +was 25 and pale and dark, nor Melisande who had no age and was of the +flamboyant type, looked their best and being conscious of this did not +improve matters by their expressions. Melisande trying to get up her +footlight smile and Lady Hillingford frankly weary and disdainful. +It was on Christine that the Arab’s quiet gaze rested longest. Trim, +elegant, apparently untired, her clear pale skin rendered still paler +by the heat, her large eyes burning with keen interest and power, her +lips, glowing red, her thick hair unruffled in its soft close waves +about her head, she certainly presented the most pleasing aspect of the +three. Her gaze was fixed unwaveringly upon the handsome face turned to +her. She looked exactly what she felt, intensely interested. After a +lengthened survey which was in no way rude nor impudent, only evidently +extremely critical and observant of the minutest details, he turned to +his attendant and told him to conduct all the English to a private tent +and look after them except the lady who spoke Arabic and she should +follow them directly. Christine looked at her companions with her +cheerful smile and translated this adding, “Go ahead and leave me. I’ll +come as soon as I can.”</p> + +<p>They did not like seeming to desert her, but she had become so much +their leader and director in the last few hours and she seemed so +perfectly unafraid of the whole situation that they solemnly filed out +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> +after the Arab in silence.</p> + +<p>The tent was now empty except for the handsome seated form and herself +standing before him, a slender, graceful English figure in her simple +grey clothes. The light from the great swinging center lamp fell on her +thick brown hair and showed a soft wavering colour in her cheeks as she +gazed steadily at her captor. She felt no fear as she heard the others +withdraw. She did not know what was going to happen to her, no word in +the long conversation had indicated what her fate might be and she knew +herself absolutely defenceless but her whole mind had been seized as it +were by a great expectancy and there was no room for any other feeling. +Physically she was in those moments intensely alive: every sense seemed +at its highest power. Her eyes took in every detail of the face and +form opposite her, her ears were conscious of the faintest rustle and +click of the curtain behind her as they fell to shutting her in, her +nostrils quivered to the strange scent of tobacco and camel, coffee and +wood fire, in the tent. Her whole being seemed rising on tip-toe to go +forward to something she did not know. Lasrali rose from his seat and +approached her. She did not retreat. Then in a single sweep of his arm +he had drawn her close up to his breast, he bent his head and pressed +his lips down hard on hers.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly she knew that here now, whirling down upon her through +the space of twenty years, was again the wonderful moment she had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> +known at 16 and never refound. It was here now. It was hers again. +Her head was pressed back on his arm. She could not move. Again the +pain on her mouth. Again the realization of being in the presence of a +tremendous Force and that not a destructive but an august beneficent +force, the constructive force of Life itself. Again that glimpse before +her eyes of something wonderful, something majestic and utterly beyond +the petty details of everyday existence. For the moment she seemed +united to something vast, eternal, primaeval, as indeed she was, to +the Impulse of Life itself that causes the whole universe to roll on +through its countless aeons. Her eyes gazed up to the dark beauty of +those above her but she did not see them with their lids half closed +over them and the straight black brows contracted into one line almost +as with severe physical pain above them. She saw before her mental +vision the magnificence of triumphal Life sweeping up towards her to +engulf her in its stupendous onrush.</p> + +<p>It was only for an instant: She was released suddenly and staggered +slightly, clutching at the central tent pole for support and white and +trembling just as she had been on that other evening long ago. But her +eyes were shining still with the joy of the vision and she smiled at +Lasrali now gravely regarding her. He took her arm and led her up to +his own vacant chair into which he gently pressed her. Then bending +over her he began to speak slowly and distinctly so that she caught +every word.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p> + +<p>“Listen. I want you. For the others I do not care. As you know I am +an Arab and not like the English supposed to have only one wife. I +can have a number but as it happens I have none now. If you will stay +and be my wife, I will let all your companions go. I will give them a +driver and a guard and they will go safely on their way to Jerusalem. +Nothing of theirs will be taken and I will send two of my Arabs to +explain the shooting.”</p> + +<p>He stopped, waiting for her reply and Christine in the crisis of her +fate seemed suddenly struck dumb. The immensity of her feelings, the +intense desire to express all that was surging up in her soul seemed +to paralyse her utterance as a volume of water gets choked by its own +pressure in the narrow neck of a vessel from which it is struggling to +escape. She, the glib interpreter for others, she, the student who had +read Arab poetry by the hour was now tongue tied and silent, unable +to utter one little word of love or encouragement to the man bending +over her. She thought the beauty of his face so perfect, its expression +now so infinitely soft and tender, that she longed to throw her arms +about his neck and tell him that she loved him and would those words +have been any less true, any more exaggerated an expression than when +an English society girl says, “I love you,” to a man she is going to +marry, after a three weeks’ engagement?</p> + +<p>Rather, the truth of it was so intense in Christine’s case and the +realisation of it so overawing that her lips were locked and her limbs +seemed inert. She struggled as we struggle in dreams to speak but not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> +a single world would come to her aid. She could only look and look back +to the eyes above her. Her dilated, appealing gaze might have been one +of helpless, fascinated terror and her heart thumping so violently in +her bosom blanched her face and lips.</p> + +<p>A shade of disappointment came over Lasrali’s countenance.</p> + +<p>“You will stay to save your friends?” he repeated and Christine managed +to force her trembling lips to a weak, yes.</p> + +<p>“Aiwa.”</p> + +<p>Lasrali gave a deep sigh as of relief and straightened himself. His +face relapsed into its habitual gravity as he said:</p> + +<p>“I see you are very frightened but there is no need. In my tent you +will not be hurt or grieved. You will be safe, protected, I believe +happy. I shall try with all my force to make you so. You are very tired +now, go and rest; eat and sleep. Peace be with you.”</p> + +<p>Again Christine tried to respond but the whole view of this love and +life so suddenly forced upon her seemed too great for her to assimilate +and to find quickly the suitable words a vehicle for her thoughts. And +the moment for her to speak and accept seemed maliciously to have gone +before she could grasp it.</p> + +<p>If it was impossible for her to speak while he bent over her, his face +suffused with tenderness, it seemed still more hopeless to do so now +when he had drawn a little away and his usual calm and dignity had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> +enfolded him.</p> + +<p>She hesitated clasping her hands, not as he fancied in supplication +to him, but to those unseen powers that were holding her, preventing +her disclosing her feeling towards him. Her mind was staggered and as +we fail when suddenly we come into view of a colossal mountain or a +huge giant tree, to summon words in which to describe our admiration, +because words seem so inadequate, so did Christine fail now.</p> + +<p>Lasrali did not touch her again but with a grave gesture, waved her to +the door of the tent, the curtains of which he himself held back that +she might pass through.</p> + +<p>With a look of intense gratitude, admiration and love, which he +translated as one of final appeal, she passed out and he was left alone.</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * * </div> + +<p>When Christine entered the other tent, the rest of the party were +seated in the centre, round a piece of carpet on which stood a coffee +pot of steaming coffee, a jug of goat’s milk, white bread as good as in +the Jerico hotel and a pile of dates.</p> + +<p>They raised jaded looking enquiring faces to her as she joined the +circle and sat down.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right. You are quite safe. Give me some coffee and I’ll tell +you.”</p> + +<p>“Hurrah!” exclaimed Briggs. “Well you are splendid. What does he say?”</p> + +<p>“He says, first we must all sleep here and rest until it’s cool +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> +to-morrow afternoon. He will then send you all with a good driver and +an armed escort up to Jerusalem and an Arab who will explain all about +the shooting and see that the proper people are sent after our driver’s +body, which will be guarded till they come.” She paused and drank up +her coffee. A relieved sigh rose from the others, from all except the +Major who would not look relieved. He glared fiercely into his coffee +cup in silence.</p> + +<p>“How wonderful!” said Lady Hillingford.</p> + +<p>“Good fellow,” from her husband.</p> + +<p>“Thank God,” said the millionaire.</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s a darling,” declared Melisande.</p> + +<p>Then Christine quietly threw her bombshell.</p> + +<p>“Yes, only he says one of the women must stay.”</p> + +<p>“Scoundrel,” shouted the Major, banging his cup down on the carpet.</p> + +<p>“Ah, I <i>thought</i> so,” murmured Lady Hillingford turning very white.</p> + +<p>The two husbands looked at each other across the coffee without a word.</p> + +<p>“Which one does he want?” asked Melisande drawing out her little mirror +from the bag on her lap and puffing out her golden locks at the side of +her head with her jewelled fingers.</p> + +<p>“Me,” replied Christine.</p> + +<p>“<i>You?</i>” exclaimed both ladies at once with an emphasis which was +not at all complimentary.</p> + +<p>“Yes: seems strange, doesn’t it?” returned Christine tranquilly, +sinking her white even teeth into her dates with keen satisfaction. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> +She was evidently going to enjoy her supper to the full.</p> + +<p>All eyes turned on her. Her companions stared at her in those moments +as if they had never seen her before. And indeed it was a new Christine +from the one they had been travelling with. The primaeval woman was +rising in her in all her strength and glory and arming her with new and +wonderful weapons. In her skin which had a curious transparency was +kindled a lovely rose flush, her eyes were no longer still dark pools +but rather wells of moving fire, her lips were redder than Melisande’s +painted ones. As she sat her slender body rose full of proud grace from +her cushion seat.</p> + +<p>There was a long pause, full of tension. Somehow the ladies looked +displeased and the men not less concerned than before. Melisande was +the first to break the silence.</p> + +<p>“What did you say?” she asked abruptly as Christine continued to eat +calmly and cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Said I’d stay.”</p> + +<p>“Said you would stay?” gasped the men together.</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course. I wasn’t going to get you all shot and Eva and Sandy +kept as prisoners as well as myself. I didn’t see the use.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but look here, we can’t stand this,” broke out Hillingford. “Do +you think we could go back and save ourselves at your expense like +that?”</p> + +<p>“Well, what would you propose?” asked Christine pouring more milk into +her coffee.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span></p> + +<p>“Er—well, I—er—don’t know—I should think they’d never dare +to—to—” he stopped.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know either but they might dare a good lot. I heard a great +many cheering references to ‘Dead men tell no tales,’ while the +leader was talking to him. He seemed to think it was a splendid plan +for you three men to be shot and then for Lasrali to disappear into +the wilderness with us three women after duly rewarding his faithful +followers with our horses, carriage, bags, and jewelry and burying the +driver under a rock. It sounded a most engaging programme and I was +afraid each minute Lasrali would accept it. But he wouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Did you offer him all he liked to ask if he would let us <i>all</i> +go?” asked Briggs.</p> + +<p>“I did and he said it had been the dream of his life to—to marry a +white woman and a lady and he would not give it up for any amount of +money.”</p> + +<p>“Scoundrel,” exclaimed the Major.</p> + +<p>“Did you say that although we seemed a small party we had all the power +of England and the law behind us and he would certainly suffer very +much if he injured us?”</p> + +<p>“I did: and he said England wasn’t much good now and didn’t protect her +people worth a cent. Besides which nobody could possibly get at him in +the wilderness until—until, well, until he’d realised his dream.”</p> + +<p>“Devil! Devil!” shouted the Major who had at last got on to another +word.</p> + +<p>The others all sat pale and silent. The tremendous end of their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> +journey to the Dead Sea taken so thoughtlessly and gaily was coming +close up to them now and appalled them.</p> + +<p>It was Hillingford who spoke first.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you others think about it but personally I feel I’d +rather stay here and be shot than save myself at a woman’s expense. +Damn it, I say, we <i>can’t</i> go back and leave you here.”</p> + +<p>“Our wives, Hillingford, our wives, we’ve got to think of them,” +murmured Briggs. He doubtless did think of his wife, but also somewhere +at the back of his mind he had the feeling that Eternal Justice would +be better satisfied by Miss Smith becoming an Arab’s bride than by John +Briggs with all his millions being murdered in the wilderness.</p> + +<p>“If I know Eva,” Hillingford returned hotly, “she’d die here with me +rather than sneak out of a thing like this.”</p> + +<p>Lady Hillingford looked back at her husband. Her face was dead white +but she knew what she had to do and say and played up to her caste.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Will, I’ll stay. I have no doubt you can finish me with a +rock or a knife.”</p> + +<p>Christine looked over to him with a smile in her now lovely eyes. Then +having finished an excellent meal, she sat back on her cushion and +wiped her pink tipped fingers on her little handkerchief. Then she +stretched out a small hand to Hillingford.</p> + +<p>“It’s most awfully good of you Lord Hillingford and I do appreciate +it. But I should simply hate for all our lives to be wasted. I should +want to do the same and stay and save you, in any case but as it is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> +you needn’t worry at all. You can all go off with clear consciences. We +came out for adventures and this is the biggest we’ve had. It’s mine +principally and I’m going to take it. I think Lasrali hasn’t been half +bad in spite of what the Major says. He has very self sacrificingly +picked out the plainest and least attractive woman simply because she’s +free and the others have husbands. I like him and I’m going to stay and +marry him.”</p> + +<p>This was another bombshell amongst them that left them gasping. Only +Melisande did not seem surprised. She watched Christine with a little +malicious smile.</p> + +<p>“Good heavens!” was all Hillingford seemed able to answer and the +distress on his face hardly lightened. Briggs was candidly and openly +pleased. It had been an awful moment for him when he really thought +Death was coming for him through his stockade of money-bags.</p> + +<p>“Very plucky, I call it,” he said, “daring little devil, isn’t she +Sandy?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, very,” returned Melisande getting out her cigarette case and +lighting up.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the Major banged both clenched fists down on the carpet square +making the coffee cups dance and jingle.</p> + +<p>“You an English woman going to marry that devil and <i>like it</i>. +Faugh!”</p> + +<p>In his indignation he tried to struggle to his feet but being short and +fat and seated on a cushion he found this very difficult and nearly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> +rolled over into the coffee cups. Christine sprang to her feet and +offered him her hand.</p> + +<p>“I think we’re all dead tired,” she said, “let’s go to bed and talk in +the morning.”</p> + +<p>The rest of the circle broke up. They were tired beyond all words and +got up and approached thankfully the great square at the back of the +tent where rugs were unrolled and a quantity of cushions laid out. +They ranged themselves in the following order. Lady Hillingford, then +her husband, then the millionaire, then his wife, then next her in the +outside Miss Smith. The Major would have none of them. He stalked up to +the capacious bed and took his cushion and small rug.</p> + +<p>“I despise you,” he said in a fierce undertone to Miss Smith as he +grabbed his pillow.</p> + +<p>“Sorry,” replied Christine and threw herself full length beside +Melisande. She longed for rest and a cessation of talk and discussion, +to lie still in the darkness and listen to the Voice of Nature in her +ear and feel the kiss of Life burning on her lips.</p> + +<p>They drew the great rug which they shared in common over them, for with +the dawn a little chill was coming into the air.</p> + +<p>“Put out the light as you pass, Major,” called Briggs, and the Major +did so throwing his rug and cushion down as far from the others as he +could get. No one spoke any more and sleep came down heavily like a +great cloud upon them and enfolded them. Except (as usual) Christine. +Stretched out still and looking into the soft darkness, she lay and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> +thought.</p> + +<p>Here after all these years, winging its way to her across the gulf +of time and space had come again the joy she had known when on the +threshold of life.</p> + +<p>She had come into the barren desert which gives nothing neither shade +nor rest nor water nor food, and it had given her this.</p> + +<p>How strangely things happened; she had joined this touring party, +hoping for fun and adventure, all the amusing little adventures of +travel and suddenly she had stumbled into the biggest adventure that +could happen to her that would change her whole life.</p> + +<p>She was, what so very few of us are, free from the necessity of +consideration for others. She was without relations, home or family +ties. Without any dear ones to regret or that would regret her. In the +twenty years that had intervened between that first engagement and the +present time, one by one every one that belonged to her or who loved +her had been taken from her. She had felt the extreme loneliness of +this grow upon her and had wildly resented it at times, but here now +she saw that it was enviable. Without remorse or regret, she was free +to accept this great experience, now she had come face to face with it. +She had nothing to hold her nor restrain her from going forward to it. +There was nothing in the life behind her to hold out a single detaining +hand. She had not even a pet nor a house that needed attention and +arrangement.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span></p> + +<p>She was one of those single women with a sufficient income to dress +well and live in the best hotels who spent her time studying, motoring, +dancing, amusing herself in all legitimate, civilized ways, travelling +widely and looking, always looking for something. With some of them if +they are plain and stupid it is love they are looking for, sometimes +only a kiss. Christine had never had to seek for love and kisses +she could have had by dozens. It was because she was looking for a +particular kind of love, a special sort of kiss, that the search had +been long. She did not seek brutality nor cruelty, those are totally +different from though often confused with force, intensity. The real +true strength of Love that is striving to create Life in a beloved +object that is what she had been seeking and had now found and she +could not see that she had to make any particular sacrifice for it. She +admired the grave dignity and beauty of the man himself and she had +felt that strange sharp call of his individuality to hers, which is +after all the basis of all love between the sexes whether civilized or +uncivilized. The one quality which to her was one absolute essential +in any man she was to love, tenderness and kindness to animals seemed +assured by what his servant had said. Had she really known anything +more of her father’s secretary, than she knew now of Lasrali? She could +have married him for the sake of that golden moment in his arms and she +was now going to marry Lasrali for exactly the same reason. In her eyes +it was quite as good a reason as marrying to obtain a house in town, a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> +settled income or a title. She saw very clearly that Nature, cruel as +she is in the deaths, disease, pain and all the woes she sends upon us +and the animals has yet in her hands for all created things this one +supreme joy and consolation for all the suffering of life, the joy of +simple, natural unrestrained love. No animals fail to realise this and +few men and women in a natural state, but in a civilized state there +are hundreds of thousands who live, marry, suffer and die without one +glimpse of this Eternal Truth.</p> + +<p>So far Christine had steadily avoided marrying anyone, between whom +and herself there did not seem to be that strange wild magnetism, that +irresistible call and challenge to the senses, getting out of her +numerous engagements as best she could and submitting to being angrily +and furiously called a jilt, which she knew was not true. She was +simply one looking for gold and consistently refusing the dross that +was pressed upon her in its place.</p> + +<p>Lasrali did not sleep that night. All through the remaining hours he +sat wide eyed in his chair, sometimes drawing at his pipe but more +often idle staring down at the carpet that kept the stony dust of the +wilderness from his fine narrow high arched feet. A very hardy struggle +was going on within him and he was fighting bravely against the +greatest power in the Universe, outside that still greater power that +has been given to the soul of man.</p> + +<p>Several times his wearied attendant outside raised the tent flap a tiny +bit and looked in only to see his master still sitting there as a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> +statue, lost in thought.</p> + +<p>It is absurd to limit the good and bad impulses in man by any creed, +caste, or colour. The human soul has no such limits. Nobleness, +generosity, self-sacrifice, dwell indiscriminately in black, yellow, +red, and white races alike. Evil, also is scattered impartially +through the whole of humanity as witness the loathsome cruelties and +barbarities committed by men of our own time and race under the name +of Scientific Research which surpass in horror anything done by savage +tribes.</p> + +<p>At last when the morning was fairly on its way, he summoned his Arab.</p> + +<p>“Are the English still sleeping?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, they all sleep very soundly: a good time to kill the men now if +you wish.”</p> + +<p>Lasrali lifted his hand in protest, his brows contracting.</p> + +<p>“Listen. When the English wake, take them water for washing and all +they need. Then a good meal. While they eat, come and rouse me if I +should be sleeping. When they finish their meal, bring them here to me.”</p> + +<p>The Arab bowed and went away muttering. Lasrali, exhausted, passed +through the curtains to his inner tent to sleep.</p> + +<p>Although Christine had slept less than the others she was the first to +awake, when the light was sinking in the tent and the flush of sunset +was stealing over the wilderness, softening all its grim, glaring +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> +whiteness. She looked round with a feeling of surprise that the day had +vanished, they had slept it away. It seemed strange to be waking to +the rose of sunset instead of the rose of dawn as she was accustomed +to do. She lifted herself from the rugs and looked at the sleepers +beside her. Hillingford was the only one whose eyes were open and as he +met her glance he smiled and as if by common consent they both rose, +very quietly so as not to disturb the others and went out of the tent +together, passing by the Major still soundly asleep by the door.</p> + +<p>The encampment outside was an animated scene, cooking fires were +sparkling everywhere and Arabs coming and going between them preparing +the evening meal. The line of camels and other animals were feeding +leisurely under their rock shelter, all the tent doors were open except +the great double one, really two tents, joined together, one behind the +other, which belonged to Lasrali. Of these the door flaps were closed +and fastened and two Arabs sat on the ground before them.</p> + +<p>Christine looked out on it all curiously and smelt the scent of the +wood fires rising in the hot still air with a curious leaping of the +heart. Why is it that the scent of the camp fire affects all or nearly +all mankind with a strange feeling like nostalgia? Is it because on its +fragrance our senses are borne back to primaeval times when our first +camp fires smoked in the untamed forest?</p> + +<p>She glanced across to Lasrali’s tent and the sight of its closed door +struck her with a sense of loneliness. Her life henceforth would lean +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> +upon him. This scene that she looked upon would be its outside shell +but there was nothing in it that she cared about except himself.</p> + +<p>She turned to Hillingford who stood beside her. The Arabs about them +glanced at them sideways, but the Mahomedan from his earliest years +is taught not to stare and the long dark eyes were drooped again +immediately over boiling kettle, or rice bowl as if they had seen +nothing unusual.</p> + +<p>“There are just one or two things I should like you to do for me,” she +said gently, “if you will.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, I will, anything,” he returned gazing at her in the +soft rose light that fell all about them from the tinted sky. How +wonderfully well she was looking he thought with no toilet made nor +adjuncts of any kind. He did not realise how the great force of +expectant life was awakened and moving within her, painting her cheeks +and lips, kindling and softening her eyes.</p> + +<p>“You know I have no near relations,” she went on, “so there’s no +one to see or to tell about me, but I should like the money I have +to be safeguarded. Will you be my trustee and look after it for me? +And re-invest the income, so that in the future, if there should be +any—any, well if it’s wanted it will be there. In my bag when you go +back to the carriage you will find a small packet of all my papers, +bank book, check book, etc. Will you take possession of it. That will +give you all the details. And send me back by one of the Arabs my +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> +little case of clothes. I shall want that here.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do anything and everything,” he returned, “but you must authorize +me about the money here,” and he drew out his pocket book and gave it +to her. “Write down there that you wished me to act for you. Here’s +a pen.” He gave her his own stylographic and she looked at it for a +moment in silence.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t this all funny? Doing this civilized sort of business out here +in this wilderness. What an end we have had to our tour!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s awful,” groaned Hillingford, “I shall never forgive myself +or feel the same again.” Christine had seated herself on a great stone +and was writing rapidly in the pocket book all that she thought was +necessary. When it was done, she handed up the book and pen to him.</p> + +<p>“Will that do?”</p> + +<p>Hillingford read it through.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” he said and shut the book and replaced it. “But we +shall send after you and rescue you as soon as we get back.”</p> + +<p>Christine still seated put her hand round her knees and stared over the +small space that intervened to the closed tent door of Lasrali.</p> + +<p>“Do you remember your Roman History?” she said slowly after a minute. +“You remember how the Romans carried off the Sabine women and how +after a time the Sabine husbands and fathers came after them to rescue +them and the Sabine women came out and said they were happy with their +Roman husbands and didn’t want to be rescued? It was too late. Well +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> +it’s the same now. I am sure it will be too late. Besides this I am a +sort of hostage. If you come after me to rescue me I believe you won’t +find me because Lasrali will go far, far away in the mountains and +hide.”</p> + +<p>“But surely he could be found. We could get an army to scour the +place,” remonstrated Hillingford in hot desperation.</p> + +<p>Christine shook her head.</p> + +<p>“It might be possible to find and punish him but what about me? I +should think I should be killed when the news first came to him he was +being followed and don’t you see he has us all in his power <i>now</i>? +If he lets you go, you are on parole, as it were. You can’t pursue him +afterwards,” Hillingford groaned, then he burst out, “He’s no right to +keep you.”</p> + +<p>“No, but I am staying of my own free will. Don’t attempt to rescue +me. You will only make fearful trouble if you do and it seems to be +dishonourable when he has had you in his power and let you go. Be quite +happy about me, really. I have had so many years of ordinary civilized +life I am quite prepared to accept this adventure as a change and make +the best of it.”</p> + +<p>Hillingford was silent, staring down at the ground.</p> + +<p>“Do you despise me, too, like the Major?” she asked with a little laugh.</p> + +<p>“Good heavens, no, I think you are a heroine. Of course, I know +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> +whatever you may say, you are only doing it for us!”</p> + +<p>Christine’s brows contracted.</p> + +<p>Again this wall of hopeless misunderstanding. She could not clear it +away. She could not explain to him for he would never understand. They +spoke the same language, they were of the same country, class and +creed, yet she felt further from him, in a way, than she did from the +stranger who was their host.</p> + +<p>Hillingford who was girt about with conventions and civilization got on +very well with the half of Christine that was conventional, civilized +woman, the other half the simple, natural primitive woman he would not +have been able to understand at all.</p> + +<p>Christine did not attempt further explanation all she said was:</p> + +<p>“Well, remember the Sabine women and don’t rescue me. I don’t want it. +I think it would be dishonourable and extremely dangerous. When I want +civilization again I’ll find a way of getting back to it. Now, promise. +Then I shall feel safer and happier,” and very reluctantly Hillingford +promised.</p> + +<p>The rosy glow was fading, stars sparkled in it here and there. In the +East a great pale moon came up reminding them of the approaching hour +of departure.</p> + +<p>In silence they walked back to the tent. The door was open and an Arab +was lighting the central lamp, while two others were spreading out a +meal on the carpet. The women were arranging their hair before scraps +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> +of looking-glass and the men sat moody and silent watching the Arabs at +work.</p> + +<p>It was a short and quiet meal, less lively than their supper last night.</p> + +<p>There seemed nothing more to be said. No one seemed to have any ideas, +or to wish to speak. A sullen sort of apathy had settled on them all +as if they were a flock of overdriven sheep. Christine alone looked +radiant and clear-eyed and sat looking through the door of the tent +towards that other one of which she could just see the closed flaps. At +last she saw movement about it. Arabs went in carrying coffee and Arabs +came out and at last one crossed the space to their tent and entered.</p> + +<p>“The horses are refreshed and ready. All is now prepared for your +departure and our Master would be pleased if you will come to his tent.”</p> + +<p>Not knowing yet whether they were all going to be executed at the last +moment or not the English all rose and followed the Arab out of their +tent across the now moonlit space to the other one and were ushered +gravely in.</p> + +<p>Lasrali was standing to receive them. The audience was to be short so +no cushions were prepared nor offered, of which the Major was very +glad. They filed in. Christine as the interpreter and the only one +who could understand was pushed a little forward and stood in front +of the rest. Her eyes alight, her cheeks and lips glowing, her form +full of elastic strength, she looked as she felt in the first flush of +womanhood. Her face was smiling as she looked up at him and Lasrali +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> +looked down at her as a man dying of thirst looks at a crystal spring. +Then he began to speak very clearly and restrainedly.</p> + +<p>“I am an Arab and a host is a host, and guests are guests. I tell you +now you are all free. Last night I made conditions I should not have +done. They do not exist this evening. With my escort you will all +proceed to Jerusalem and may peace be with you.”</p> + +<p>He stopped and Christine, paling a little, repeated it in English.</p> + +<p>Then Lasrali approached her a step nearer and added: “Sacred is the law +of hospitality. I infringed it last night. I touched this lady. To her +I apologise.”</p> + +<p>Utter silence. Christine stood as if actually turned to ice or stone. +Her color fled. She gazed up at Lasrali as if he were demented. Her +companions to whom the words conveyed nothing grew cold with fear. What +now? What in heaven’s name had he said? Was all that first palaver some +ghastly joke? Had he now suggested they should be eaten alive or what? +They gazed at Christine, longing for her to speak and fully prepared +for the worst. Her face was a study of astonishment, agony and despair. +The Major couldn’t stand it. He went up behind her and shook her arm.</p> + +<p>“What’s he said now? The scoundrel!”</p> + +<p>Lasrali bent towards her with grave kindness.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you do not understand. You are free. Go with your friends. I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> +regret that your beauty last night overcame me.”</p> + +<p>Christine still stood white and silent and trembling. Was it possible? +Here again the very idea, the actual words that had ruined her +happiness at 16! Here in this man of different race and caste and +blood, country and creed, the same misunderstanding. Were men all +alike? Was it only Woman who saw clearly back to the primaeval fount of +things and recognized in passion the joyous force of life?</p> + +<p>“Christine!” it was Lady Hollingford’s voice sharp and thin. She was +delicate and nervous and she felt she could bear the strain no longer. +“Do tell us what he says, whatever it is!”</p> + +<p>In a flash Christine saw how this little accident of knowing the +language put them all in her power. Her friends, their safety, Lasrali, +his reputation, were all her toys.</p> + +<p>For the moment the temptation came to her to mistranslate his words. +Just to say he dismissed them as had been arranged and was keeping her. +The primaeval woman fighting for her ends prompted this. That would +satisfy all these civilized fools and they would go and leave her in +peace with the heroine’s halo round her head. It would be so difficult +otherwise perhaps to stay.</p> + +<p>But the impulse was pushed aside instantly by her feelings of truth and +honour and responsibility to those who trusted her. Also she would not +rob Lasrali of the credit for his fine feelings and his self-sacrifice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p> + +<p>Stammering and hesitating because of the amazement gripping her, she +gave out his words in English exactly as he had spoken them and the +relief of the others was mixed with surprise.</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s all right! What’s the matter with you?” asked Lady +Hillingford, but Melisande only laughed.</p> + +<p>“Please leave me now I desire rest,” Lasrali said.</p> + +<p>“Do thank him for us and tell him how grateful we are,” Hillingford +said and Christine mechanically turned his words into Arabic. Slipping, +slipping from her she saw the golden moment, never to be captured +again. The English are not a graceful people. They tried to bow and +salute Lasrali who stood there reposeful and dignified but they were +not very good at it and in a sort of huddled bunch they got through the +tent curtains. The Major marched out with flat defiance.</p> + +<p>“Showed the white feather after all, didn’t dare to touch us, thought +so, damned scoundrel!” was his farewell remark.</p> + +<p>Christine was the last to leave. The others had preceded her and the +curtains had fallen to behind them. Her hand was on the dangling +fringes. She looked back. The tent was empty. At the other side of it +were the curtains dividing off Lasrali’s sleeping tent. Through them he +had disappeared. Should she? Dare she? Race after that fleeting, golden +moment which was now eluding her for the second time? Behind her lay +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> +all those years of an existence she knew so well. Almost every form +of civilised amusement that a modern age provides had been hers. And +love in all its delicate restrained civilised ways had been offered her +again and again but there had seemed something tame and flat about it +all. Before her stood Life in another dress or rather in an unashamed +barbaric nakedness which had some strength and glory about it. Above +all it was something new. She seemed in those seconds to visualise it +as a dancing, laughing figure, taunting her, daring her to come after +it. And she would dare. Beyond the further curtains was burning a great +electric force that was calling to every nerve and pulse and fibre of +her frame pulling her irresistibly to itself.</p> + +<p>The curtains dropped from her nerveless fingers. Swift, silent as a +shadow, she passed across the space and drew back the curtains that +had closed behind Lasrali. A dim light burned in the tent. Beyond she +saw his unrolled bed. He himself was standing still gazing at the +ground. He turned and saw her as she entered, not weak nor white nor +trembling nor hesitant now, but alive, determined, triumphant, glowing, +expanding, the future mother of a bold and hardy race. Eyes shining, +she advanced towards him with outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>“Lasrali! don’t send me away! I want to stay here with you!”</p> + +<p>A flash came over his face as of some great enlightenment. He put both +his hands on her shoulders and gazed keenly into her eyes but hers did +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> +not waver. They glowed and glowed carrying their message straight to +his.</p> + +<p>“Is it true?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I swear it by the Koran.”</p> + +<p>Over his face so superbly gifted by Nature, swept that wonderful, all +enveloping softness and sweetness that filled her with ecstasy.</p> + +<p>“Then the dream of my life is realised.”</p> + +<p>“And mine,” said Christine.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="COLOUR">COLOUR</h2> +</div> + + +<p class="nindc"> +<i>Circumstances sometimes make us virtuous against our will.</i></p> + + +<p>George Morris was pottering about at the back of the dusty, dingy +little picture shop, while the dealer had gone to fetch the picture +backing George had come in for, when he noticed set away on a shelf a +little sketch and paused before it fascinated. It was a most attractive +little thing, all red: everything in it was a delightful warm, rich, +glowing crimson. The background was red—the interior of a room full +of firelight. A bed hung with red curtains occupied the centre with an +undraped woman’s figure of the loveliest lines, getting into it: one +ivory knee pressed the side of the bed: her fair hair, glinting with +red in the firelight, fell over her shoulders and her rounded arm, +uplifted to draw aside the curtain. Underneath the picture was written +the one word, “RUBY.”</p> + +<p>George Morris, city man, living in the suburbs with Mrs. Morris in the +dull, solid round of English existence, felt his heart leap up suddenly +in response to the call of the picture. Under a plain, prosaic exterior +this man had a deep natural love for romance, a thirst for adventure, +a longing for the “wine, woman and song” that seemed never to form +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> +a part of his humdrum life. He thought of Mrs. Morris and her dull, +plain face and the ginger-brown gown she seemed to live in. Why did she +always wear brown, he wondered? Why not red, for instance? He thought +of their bedroom at Meadow View, Mervyn Road: its linoleum floor, its +iron bedstead, its white walls, its narrow grate filled with tissue +paper and never guilty of a fire. In fact, it was always so cold that +Maria Morris wore very thick nightgowns and woolly jackets to keep +warm, and the electric light was so expensive now that she would hardly +allow it to be used upstairs, and always said they could just as well +undress in the dark.</p> + +<p>George sighed. Why was Maria like that and his bedroom like that? Why +should he not have a rich, warm, red room like this ... and ... and...?</p> + +<p>“There you are, sir: the best three-ply there is for picture backing.”</p> + +<p>George turned round with a start. He had quite forgotten his errand.</p> + +<p>The dealer was peering at him through his spectacles, the thin wood in +his hand.</p> + +<p>“Er—ah!—thank you very much,” he stammered. “Er—this picture +here—what price is it?” He indicated the little red sketch.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s not for sale,” replied the man. “It’s just a bit an artist +brought in to show me. He’s painting quite a big picture. It’s for the +Salon, I believe.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh,” murmured George, “not for the Academy?” He felt disappointed he +couldn’t buy the sketch, and if the picture was going to Paris he would +never see it again.</p> + +<p>The dealer shook his head doubtfully. “No. I think not. Colour’s a bit +too warm for England, I should say.”</p> + +<p>The door bell sprang at the moment, and the dealer looked round a pile +of frames into the front shop.</p> + +<p>“Why, here is Mr. Brookes himself!” he exclaimed. And George saw a tall +slight young man with the artist’s slouch-hat and a flowing tie come +in and nod to the shopman. “There’s a gentleman here admiring your +picture,” the latter said, and George approached him eagerly.</p> + +<p>“I do indeed,” he said. “It’s a wonderful picture. I’m sorry I won’t +ever see the big one.”</p> + +<p>The artist flushed with pleasure. “You can come and see it now, if you +like,” he said in a pleased tone. “My shanty’s only a stone’s throw +from here; two tubes of purple madder, please, Smith, and chalk them +up, will you? I haven’t a cent on me.”</p> + +<p>George’s heart beat. A visit to a real studio with an artist to see +this glorious red picture! He accepted at once. What a comfort that +Maria had always been out to tea lately and there was no need for him +to hurry back.</p> + +<p>When the artist had got his paints and George had paid for his +purchase, they left the shop together and walked to the studio.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span></p> + +<p>It was in a side street, and you went down a long slope from the +pavement to a wooden door which the artist opened with his latchkey, +and George walked through a small passage into a great, untidy, +comfortable room that, with its hint of gaiety and dissolute romance, +delighted him. There were deep chairs everywhere, a huge dais in one +corner all draped in gorgeous red, a stove in the centre glowing hot, +a deep cushioned semi-circular lounge half round it. One corner of the +room was walled off with voluminous blue curtains to form the artist’s +bedroom. The whole end of the room farthest from this was window, +but it only looked into a quiet green garden with high walls round +affording complete seclusion. There was a delightful litter of pictures +all about, a mass of flowers by the sunny window, an aviary of singing +birds, soft Turkey rugs on the floor, and the perfume of scented +cigarettes in the air. George liked it. He liked it much better than +the stiff drawing room with the starched white curtains and high hard +chairs of Meadow View.</p> + +<p>The artist drew forward two big chairs and then, going to the dais +pulled on a cord. The curtains flew apart and there was the picture! +Then he threw himself into one of the chairs while George took the +other, and the two men gazed at the canvas in silence.</p> + +<p>“Wonderful woman she is,” remarked the artist after a minute between +the puffs of his cigarette. “Bit of a mystery. Calls herself Mrs. +Brown, but don’t believe that’s her real name. Can’t make out what +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> +she’s doing it for: whether it’s the money or for the fun of it; little +of both, perhaps. She’s not a regular model evidently, but she’s one of +the best I ever had. Good figure, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, perfect, perfect!” replied George rapturously. He couldn’t take +his eyes off the picture. He sat before it spellbound, clasping his +British umbrella in both hands as it stood between his British knees +gazing at the vivid, barbaric riot of beautiful colour and suggestion +that appealed so to his romantic un-British heart. “What’s her face +like?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing very much. Not a bad little face when she smiles and gets +some colour; but you see I didn’t want the face for that picture.”</p> + +<p>“No, quite so, quite so,” assented George.</p> + +<p>“Larky woman, I should think,” went on the artist. “Married to a sort +of dull brute of a husband—doesn’t care about her; leaves her alone +all day.”</p> + +<p>“Pig!” grunted George indignantly. “Can you imagine a man having a +woman like that and neglecting her?”</p> + +<p>The artist laughed.</p> + +<p>“Well, marriage is a killing atmosphere. I don’t know what she may be +at home, she’s amusing enough when she comes in here.”</p> + +<p>“What do you know about her? Where did you meet her?”</p> + +<p>“The funny part is I don’t know anything. She just walked in here one +afternoon: said she was bored to death and had no romance or fun +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> +in her life, and no money of her own to spend. Said she’d sit as a +model if I’d have her. I wasn’t much struck at first: she was rather +badly dressed, you know; but we talked a little bit and I got rather +interested. I’d had the idea for this picture for a long time, I hadn’t +a model, and she was cheap and very willing to learn and be civil, +which all of them are not, and so there it was. She’s been coming to me +for quite a time now, and it’s good, the picture, isn’t it? I’m hoping +it’ll make a big hit.”</p> + +<p>George nodded. He was grasping his umbrella feverishly, his hands +rolling and unrolling the silk flaps nervously. He would do it, he +would. He’d have this one bit of romance in his life to cherish and +look back upon.</p> + +<p>He turned to the insouciant artist who, with his head tilted back and +the cigarette in his teeth and his leg hanging over one arm of the +chair, was contemplating his work with satisfaction through half-closed +eyes.</p> + +<p>“I think I heard you say in that shop you were a little pressed for +ready money,” he said in his rather stiff way.</p> + +<p>The artist laughed. “Dead broke, my dear sir, that’s what I am! Why? +Are you thinking of making me an offer for the picture?”</p> + +<p>George leant nearer him.</p> + +<p>“The picture’s good,” he said hoarsely, for his throat felt dry, “but +it’s the woman I want. Do you want to make twenty pounds? Well, here’s +your chance. Get her for me. Get her here. Lend me the studio for a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> +few hours. Fix up those red curtains, have it just like the picture, +red lights, red fire, red roses, red everything. Get her posing just +like that, mind, just like that; then you clear out and leave us alone.”</p> + +<p>The artist was sitting bolt upright now staring at Mr. George Morris as +if he could not believe his eyes or his ears, as indeed he could not. +Was this really the very respectable old party he had met in the shop? +His eyes were glowing, his face flushed. He looked almost young and +handsome. What an astounding proposition from such an orthodox-looking +old Briton! Still, twenty pounds....</p> + +<p>“But I don’t suppose for one minute she’d consent,” he said after an +astonished pause of reflection.</p> + +<p>George made an angry movement of impatience.</p> + +<p>“Unless you muddle things,” he said, “she won’t know anything about it. +You won’t ask her anything.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t see....” began the other.</p> + +<p>“Look here. You get the lady to come to an ordinary sitting; just as +usual. You fix up everything, just as it is there, as you always do, I +suppose. I’m waiting behind those curtains there. Then you get her to +pose just like that: you step back to get something, brush or what-not. +You slip behind the curtains and then clear out of the studio and I am +left in your place. What’s to prevent you doing that?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing. Only it seems rather a bad trick for me to play her and she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> +may disappoint you, she may....”</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” returned George calmly now. “If I muddle my own affairs +when you leave us that’s my business; nothing to do with you. You get +your twenty all the same.”</p> + +<p>“When?” asked the artist dubiously.</p> + +<p>“When I look through those curtains,” returned George intimating the +artist’s walled-off bedroom behind them, “and see this picture in life. +When you pass me to go out I’ll slip the notes into your hand.”</p> + +<p>Mr. James Brookes looked down on the floor in silent thought. He didn’t +like the idea at all. Still, he was very hard up and perhaps his model +would not mind. She seemed very good natured. He could pass it off as a +practical joke.</p> + +<p>“I don’t half like it,” he said after a minute. “Still, I’ll do it.”</p> + +<p>“When?”</p> + +<p>“Day after to-morrow she’s coming—four to six. You’d better be here by +three-thirty, so there’s no chance of her seeing you come in.”</p> + +<p>George got up with a strange fire of joy in his heart. Here was +romance, intrigue, adventure, coming into his life at last!</p> + +<p>He cast his eyes round the studio with its inviting air of ease, its +bright colours, its luxury, which seemed to belie, or was it the cause +of its owner’s poverty?</p> + +<p>“I envy you your life,” he said, buttoning up his coat and gazing at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> +the innumerable portraits of brunettes and blondes on the studio walls. +“There must be so much beauty, poetry, colour in it, novelty, change.” +And he sighed, thinking of his eighteen years at Meadow View with Maria.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” returned the artist. “One gets sick of it, you +know; so many women and all jealous and squabbling with one another. +One longs sometimes for a home and a little peace and quietness.”</p> + +<p>“What a pity we can’t change places,” mused George as he walked home +thinking over the artist’s words. Then he fell to wondering what the +model’s face would be like. “A nice little face when she smiles and +gets some colour,” the artist had said, and it rather took his fancy. +Ruby! It was a sweet name! And she, like himself, was sighing for +romance in her life, was evidently just as lonely and unappreciated as +he was. By the time he got back to Mervyn Road, his face had assumed +its usual chastened expression.</p> + +<p>Maria seemed rather more dull and sour than usual.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you come back to tea?” she enquired.</p> + +<p>George flushed.</p> + +<p>“You have been out so often to tea lately,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Well, I wasn’t to-day,” she snapped. “You might let me know when +you’re not coming home till dinner.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be at the office late, I know, the day after to-morrow,” replied +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> +George, trying to speak naturally, but getting redder and redder.</p> + +<p>“All right,” returned Maria, “I’m glad to know it. I’ll go and have tea +with Aunt Emma.”</p> + +<p>“Do, my dear, and I’ll get back in time for dinner.”</p> + +<p>“I should hope so,” rejoined Maria.</p> + +<p>George was amiability itself that evening. The glow of the picture had +got into his heart and warmed it, and that night he could not sleep for +thinking of it. What might not this adventure lead up to? He had heard +of men who had cosy little flats, the existence of which was unknown +to their lawful wives. He had always thought this very wrong, but now +he began to feel sympathy with those men. Perhaps, like himself they +had dull, unsympathetic wives; perhaps they, too, were yearning after +colour in their lives. A little flat and all furnished in red, which +could be kept very warm so that its occupant could wear those nice +pink and blue things he saw in the windows of the Burlington Arcade, +and dispense with woolly jackets. Silk stockings, too! He had often +thought it would be nice to have someone to take those neat boxes of +silk stockings home to that he saw on the counter of men’s shops when +he went to buy his ties. He had never thought of Maria. Silk stockings +didn’t go with Meadow View—they went with little flats. Of course, it +might be rather expensive, but then, why should he not spend something +on his own amusements? He was very liberal with Maria. She was always +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> +buying new hats. Now last year, she had had—how many? There was +the hat with the green feathers, and—er—er the hat with the green +feathers, and—and—the hat with the green feathers. Well, there, he +couldn’t think of any other hat, so he supposed she had had only one +last year, and finally, trying to find another hat for Maria, he fell +asleep.</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * * </div> + +<p>The great day came and with a beating heart, Mr. George Morris left +his office early and hurried to the studio, arriving there some +minutes before the appointed time. The artist let him in himself, and +George thought the studio looked more attractive than ever. The sun +was streaming through the lowered red blinds, the stove was burning +brightly, there were flowers on the many little tables and a heavy +fragrance from burning pastilles in the air. He was quite sorry to have +to go into the dark recesses of the bedroom in the corner, but his host +insisted on it and gave him a chair well back against the wall away +from the curtain. He gave him a paper, but as it was too dark to read +there with any comfort and he was strictly enjoined not to make the +faintest noise, so that he could not turn its pages, it was obvious the +paper was not much use to him. And how could anyone read in that state +of high-strung expectation in which Mr. George Morris now found himself?</p> + +<p>After sitting there alone in the obscurity for what seemed an +interminable time, he heard a ring at the main door and the artist +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> +going out to answer it. They seemed to linger a long time at the door +and he thought he heard some ripples of laughter that set all his +pulses beating. Then he heard the studio door open and evidently two +persons entering. But he was disappointed that he could not hear their +conversation, hardly their voices through the muffling folds of the +heavy curtains. He was afraid to leave his seat and approach nearer +the curtains for fear lest some noise of his movement might betray +him. The model’s ears might be sharper than his own. There was quite a +long pause of silence, and he wondered what they were doing. Perhaps +the model was undressing. Then he heard the moving of furniture and +supposed the scene was being arranged. The heavy bed with its elaborate +red drapery that figured in the picture had to be pushed to its right +position on the dais. He sat impatiently on his chair, the notes all +ready in his hand to be given to the artist in that blissful moment +when he should pass by him on his way out, leaving him alone with the +adorable model.</p> + +<p>At last his host’s light step approached the other side of the +curtains, a hand was laid on them, and he heard his voice say: “I’ll +just fetch that tube,” and then the curtains were pulled apart.</p> + +<p>Morris sprang to his feet and stood spellbound. There was the lovely +picture in the life, the warm interior, the gorgeous bed, the crimson +lights and in the centre, the feminine figure of lovely whiteness with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> +the flowing hair in the pose of just getting into bed.</p> + +<p>The artist passed swiftly by him, pulled the notes out of George’s +nerveless hand as he stood there staring, then passed on noiselessly +to the door which he closed behind him with the faintest click. +Faint though it was, it came to George’s ears and roused him. He was +alone—the room, the scene, the model was his! With outstretched arm he +rushed forward to clasp this beauty, this dream, this delight to him. +He reached the dais. His arms were almost round her lovely shoulders +when the model turned.</p> + +<p>A shriek rang through the studio: “<i>George!</i>”</p> + +<p>“<i>Maria!</i>”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_NOVEL_ELOPEMENT">A NOVEL ELOPEMENT</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The train puffed its way along its line through one of the prettiest +parts of Kent and carried among its many passengers a bridal couple +that had that morning been married and were now <i>en route</i> for +their honeymoon.</p> + +<p>Three weeks ago they had never seen each other, these two, who now +at the respective ages of eighteen and twenty-five, had taken their +solemn oath to remain together till Death. They had met at a dance. He +had been in the mood to marry somebody; she was already rather tired +of refusing offers and accepted his for a change. Their engagement +had been a joyous whirl, and both were very happy now and were quite +convinced that their choice was excellent. Eva thought Eric was so +clever and had such a wonderful mind and character because he always +agreed with her in conversation. Eric was so occupied with gazing into +her blue eyes when he answered her searching questions, that he had +not the remotest idea what it was he agreed to. If she said she loved +dogs he said he thought there was nothing so jolly and faithful; if +she said women should have votes, he said it would be a shame if they +hadn’t. If she said she adored music, he said his happiest hours were +passed listening to her playing; if she said vivisection was a blot on +our civilization, he said it was a beastly, unnatural practice and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> +ought to be stopped. If she said the traffic in old horses should be +abolished he told her his idea had always been to found a home where +old horses could end their days in peace. Once, when he trod on the +tail of her mother’s cat, he had seemed, to her surprise, a little +callous about it. She had reproached him. The cat had been picked up +immediately by him, fondled on his knee and given a saucer of milk by +way of consolation.</p> + +<p>Eva simply glowed with joy and love after such conversations and +incidents, and when her mother pointed out that she knew very little of +the man and that the engagement was very short, she answered:</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter, we are so alike and take the same view of +everything. We are sure to be happy.”</p> + +<p>She honestly thought she saw him in his words. All she saw was what +he let her see—the reflection of her own warm-hearted, clear-headed +self. She had really thought out the subjects on which she formed her +well-founded opinions. When she offered these to him, as he never +thought out anything and had no opinions, he accepted hers just as +lightly and easily as he would have accepted the contrary ones, if +offered!</p> + +<p>It is always very difficult for the deep, strong nature of a woman +to realise the facile worthlessness of a man’s. She was happy as she +sat in the corner of the carriage, her hand tucked into his. She was +sure—or <i>nearly</i> sure—that she had found a good, great man. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> +He was quite sure he had found a girl with a pretty face and nice +figure—these were clear to the eye, no bother of thinking them out—so +both young people were blissfully content and satisfied.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the easy motion of the train stopped. A jar and a jerk, then +it drew up motionless where the line ran through a pretty wood. Eric +sprang up and put his head out of the window. It was autumn, the +evening chill, and dusk. He could not see ahead—only that they were +not stopping at any station. Presently the guard came along by the side +of the train:</p> + +<p>“There’s an obstruction on the line, sir, on ahead! Part of a tunnel +fallen in. It will take some clearing away, too. We can’t get on +to-night.”</p> + +<p>Most of the other passengers were looking out and listening to his +discouraging accents. Their eyes wandered over the wood in which the +train was pulled up. It stood golden in autumn leaf, silent and chill. +It seemed unresponsive, and to offer no solution of their difficulties. +Then plans began to be made and eagerly discussed. Some of the +passengers were in favor of returning to the last station and stopping +there the night, being somewhat reluctantly assured by the guard they +could “get on in the morning.”</p> + +<p>Eric withdrew his head and sat down by Eva.</p> + +<p>“What would you like to do, darling?”</p> + +<p>Eva was gazing into the mystery of the shadowy wood.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span></p> + +<p>“Could we camp there?” she said. “Under that golden canopy, it’s very +lovely!”</p> + +<p>Eric’s face lengthened.</p> + +<p>“Hardly, dear, I think. It’s so damp and——”</p> + +<p>“There is a lovely full moon rising behind the trees,” she answered.</p> + +<p>Eric was silent. The wood did not appeal to him, nor the rising moon. +Neither did the “Bull and Cow” which was the station inn and the only +one they had seen from the last station as they passed.</p> + +<p>In the pause that ensued the guard entered the carriage and approached +the young couple confidentially.</p> + +<p>“We’ve decided to make a run back, sir, from here; but if I may make +a suggestion, there’s a nice farmhouse not a stone’s throw from here +where you’d be most comfortable. I know the party as keeps it would put +you up for the night and give you a good supper.”</p> + +<p>Eva looked up brightly.</p> + +<p>“A farmhouse? Is it a pretty one?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I couldn’t say as it’s so very pretty,” returned the guard +doubtfully, “but there’s good ale to be had and fowls and pork and nice +rooms, too, what they let in the summer.”</p> + +<p>Eric became decisive.</p> + +<p>“I think, darling, that’s really the best we can do, and if it’s quite +near we can get our light luggage carried over.”</p> + +<p>A man was found by the guard. They gathered their wraps and light cases +together. In a few moments they were standing on the damp soil by the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> +side of the train, listening to the directions he was giving for the +route.</p> + +<p>It did not sound so very near:</p> + +<p>“You keeps away from the wood and you goes up the hill to the top and +then down on the other side till you comes to the bridge, and don’t +cross the bridge, but keep along by the stream till you get to a stile, +and you cross the stile and go through two fields and then there’s a +bit of a wood and you go through the wood and then you comes out on a +bit of a slope and the farm’s just facing you.”</p> + +<p>“But that’s a long way,” expostulated Eric. Eva was surprised at his +cross tone. She had never heard it before.</p> + +<p>“It will be a lovely walk on this moonlight night,” she volunteered.</p> + +<p>“It’s not more’n fifteen minutes or ’arf-an-hour’s walk,” said the +guard in an aggrieved tone, “and you can’t miss it, and the ale’s good.”</p> + +<p>Eric tipped him. The man shouldered the cases and they started. They +followed their instructions to keep away from the wood and took a +little narrow path that wound up to the top of the hill. The moon was +just peeping over its brow and made long shadows fall from the trees +that stood here and there. The air was damp and cool and full of the +scent of late roses and wet leaves.</p> + +<p>To the girl it was all pure enjoyment, only clouded a little by the +fact that Eric seemed so put out. They walked side by side in silence. +The man trudged along behind them, silent also. Up and up till the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> +ridge was reached, then down and down on the other side. Eva walked +with springing steps admiring the calm beauty of it all, drawing +pleasure from each little detail of star in the sky or gleam of +moonlight on the brook. She hazarded a few enthusiastic remarks, but +Eric did not seem to hear them, and there was silence until the second +field beyond the stile was reached. Then through the quiet air came +suddenly to them a strange sound—a low, hollow sound of misery. Eva +stopped:</p> + +<p>“What is that sound, Eric?”</p> + +<p>“Dog barking, I should think,” he answered shortly.</p> + +<p>“I never heard a dog bark like that before; it has an awful, +extraordinary sound.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, because the beast has barked himself hoarse, I should think, +that’s all.”</p> + +<p>Eva stood listening.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose it is hoarse as you say, but what a terrible sound.”</p> + +<p>It was a terrible lamenting cry of a soul in misery that came to them +wailing over the wood and the stream.</p> + +<p>“Please come along,” Eric said as she stood there with dilating eyes. +“We don’t want to spend the night here.”</p> + +<p>Eva walked on. The sound of the barking, if barking it could be called, +becoming clearer and nearer as they advanced. They were in the wood +now, and the moonlight falling through the trees made beautiful +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> +patterns and traceries on the moss-grown path, but Eva now had no eyes +for it. She was listening to that long-drawn wail of pain that came +fitfully through the silver air.</p> + +<p>“But aren’t you sorry for it?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. It’s barked itself into that condition, I expect. I +suppose it’s one of the farm dogs. I hope the brute won’t go on like +that all night.”</p> + +<p>Eva was silent. It was not quite what she expected Eric to say, but she +made no comment.</p> + +<p>They were through the wood, on the slope, and there was the farmhouse +at last facing them on the slope opposite.</p> + +<p>It looked comfortable enough and cheery; well-built and solid with a +warm blaze of light in its lower windows. A large farmyard was close +at its side; an orchard on the other side. From behind the house the +hollow, melancholy barking continued, belying the aspect of peace and +rest.</p> + +<p>At the door of the farmhouse they received a warm welcome. It was +thrown open by the stout, good-tempered looking woman herself, while +her husband and son, burly figures in their rough farm clothes, lounged +up to the threshold, hands in pockets, to stare at the strangers. +Behind them at the end of the passage or hall a door stood open to +warmth and lights and a table laid for supper.</p> + +<p>Farmer Bates and his wife let rooms in the summer, so they knew +the ways of the rich and those who were not farmers. There was no +difficulty. They could have a nice room, they could have hot water, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> +they could have baths and they could have early tea in the morning; +they could have roast chicken and soup and apple tart for supper.</p> + +<p>Eric cheered up and Eva saw the expression she was familiar with come +back to his face. The “engagement expression” as she now christened +it in her mind. It was the only one she had seen for those three +weeks—the only one she knew—but she saw now his face had others.</p> + +<p>She was asked to go in and sit by the fire, and did so while the +farmer’s young, handsome son took the place opposite. Eric was +arranging terms with the woman and seeing their luggage carried +upstairs.</p> + +<p>The young farmer started a conversation as he was accustomed to do +with the summer visitors. Eva was preoccupied; she wanted to ask about +the dog, but she hesitated as to how best to approach the subject, and +before she had decided, the others came back into the room.</p> + +<p>The supper was quite a merry meal for all except herself. It was all +quiet outside now, but in spite of the talk going on round her, her +ears were only listening for that call from without. Eric grew quite +jovial; he approved the farmer’s ale and drank heartily. The farming +family were pleased at their guests’ appreciation, and the prospect of +the good pay coming in. Bridegrooms were always generous. Suddenly, +across the laughter and the talk, it came again; that awful wail of +hopeless misery. The hosts did not appear to hear it, but Eva’s face +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> +blanched, and a look of annoyance flashed across Eric’s handsome +countenance.</p> + +<p>Eva turned to the young man next her:</p> + +<p>“Why has that dog got such a peculiar bark?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Because he’s going mad, I think,” he answered. “We’re going to shoot +him in the morning.”</p> + +<p>The young farmer was quite surprised by the look of distress that come +to the girl’s face.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but why?” she exclaimed. “I think from his bark he wants water. +Let me take him some.”</p> + +<p>The man laughed:</p> + +<p>“You take him water? Why you couldn’t get near him. He’s so savage he’d +eat you alive.”</p> + +<p>“What has made him so savage?”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ve kept him on the chain for seven years, and it’s sent him +crazy, I think,” he answered indifferently. “We haven’t been able to +get near him for years; we just throw him his food and push the water +to him with a pole.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean you’ve kept him chained up and never let him free once, +never given him any exercise for seven years?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he gets exercise enough dancing about at the end of that chain and +howling. We let him howl in the winter for we don’t notice him, and +it’s too much trouble to go out and bash him, but in the summer when +the visitors are here we thrash him when he barks, for they don’t like +it, and if it annoys you I’ll soon settle him now.”</p> + +<p>And before she realised what he was going to do, he rose from his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> +place, strode up to where some huge horsewhips were ranged against the +wall, and then with one in his hand, went to the door. The burly farmer +turned in his chair.</p> + +<p>“That’s right, Steve, you go and give him a good hiding. Teach him to +behave when we have ladies here.”</p> + +<p>The son would have gone out, but Eva had sprung up and she put herself +between him and the door.</p> + +<p>“Pray don’t,” she said. “It does distress me to hear him, but I +wouldn’t have him beaten for anything.”</p> + +<p>The young farmer looked down into her blanched face and dilated eyes. +Their beauty conquered him.</p> + +<p>“As you like,” he said rather sullenly, and hung the whip up again on +the wall.</p> + +<p>The farmer himself laughed.</p> + +<p>“Now then, missis,” he called banteringly. “You’ve no call to +interfere. If he wants to beat our dog, why shouldn’t we?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be foolish, Eva. Come and sit down,” Eric said. His tone was +full of annoyance.</p> + +<p>She came back to the table and sat down facing the farmer. She was +white and trembling.</p> + +<p>“It’s not your dog,” she said steadily.</p> + +<p>The farmer’s red face turned purple.</p> + +<p>“Not our dog, eh! Not our dog! And ’oos dog is it, then, I should like +to know?”</p> + +<p>“It’s God’s dog,” the girl replied unflinchingly.</p> + +<p>She had a beautiful voice, very soft and sweet in tone, but full of +power. It vibrated through the room now, charged with the intensity of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> +her feelings and held her listeners:</p> + +<p>“All animals are His. He created them. They are not ours. They are only +lent to us in trust, and it is <i>my</i> business to interfere, as it +is everybody’s business to interfere when they are ill-treated and +mis-used.”</p> + +<p>No one spoke for a moment. The farmer sat back, open-mouthed.</p> + +<p>“’Pon my word,” he stuttered after a minute. “’Pon my word,” and could +get no further.</p> + +<p>They all turned instinctively to Eric to see what view he would take, +and Eva, too, looked at him appealingly. Surely he would take her side +against the others!</p> + +<p>“Eric?” she said questioningly. He coloured hotly. He was annoyed at +her making a scene like this about nothing.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be stupid, Eva,” he said shortly. “Go on with your supper. Of +course Bates has a right to do as he thinks best. Personally, I think +it would be a good thing if he did give the brute a thrashing and +stopped his howling.”</p> + +<p>“Eric!” she exclaimed again, but this time her tone was one of sheer +amazement and bewilderment, and sitting in her place she stared across +at him as if he were some new strange monster suddenly presented to her +eyes. And indeed, this was the fact. She saw, for the first time, the +real Eric. This was not the man she had married this morning, surely? +This was not the man whose eyes had been wont to fill with sympathetic +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> +tears whenever she had wept. A feeling of extreme loneliness came over +her. He was one in spirit with these coarse-faced, brutal farmers, who +had tortured their four-footed servant for seven years and thrashed him +when he had cried to them for help.</p> + +<p>She was alone amongst them all.</p> + +<p>She had no husband. That man opposite her, who had just let fall those +words, was not the one she had loved and adored and married. By his +speech he seemed to have let loose an icy river which was flowing now +wide and deep as the Polar sea between them.</p> + +<p>“Don’t sit staring at me,” Eric said impatiently. “Go on with your +supper, for Heaven’s sake.”</p> + +<p>Eva’s lips set. She pushed her plate from her and rose.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, I have finished,” she merely said, but there was such a +cutting disdain in her voice, such a thin, frosty edge to her tone, +that it seemed to those at the table a shower of ice had fallen +suddenly upon them. She stood for a moment looking down on the circle, +at the flushed, bloated faces, at the burly lounging forms of these +men who could sit there stuffing themselves to their protruding eyes; +well-warmed, well-fed, well-clothed, and knowing that their faithful +friend and devoted defender was stretched on the cold stones a few feet +away, dying in the agonies of thirst and despair.</p> + +<p>She turned and left the room before anyone moved or spoke, and went +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> +upstairs to the bedroom.</p> + +<p>She opened the door. A fire had been lighted in the grate, and its +cheerful red light was playing all over the room. The blinds were +pulled down, and thick red curtains drawn across the windows. On the +neat dressing-table stood a vase full of dried lavender. The bed in the +corner with snowy sheets and counterpane invited to repose. Another +little bed, draped in pink dimity, stood near the window.</p> + +<p>It was a room in which any weary traveller would have liked to rest.</p> + +<p>Eva noticed nothing. She shut the door behind her, then walked over to +the window, pulled aside the curtains and let the spring blind fly up +with a snap. Then she looked out, and there was the dog! Facing her +across a large stone paved yard, fully illuminated by the brilliant +moonlight so that she could see every detail. At the extreme end of +his chain, his long-nailed paws on the stone flags, the wild-eyed, +dishevelled looking creature stood, gazing towards the house where his +tormentors lived. The girl’s quick eyes took in his gaunt and bony +frame, the rough hair that stood upright down his spine, the open jaw +with white foam hanging from it, the neck from which all the hair was +gone, rubbed away in his ceaseless efforts to free himself from his +chain. Near him were a few bones and untouched scraps. Just out of his +reach, however he might strain, was an overturned earthenware saucer. +It looked dry, as if it had not contained water for many days.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> + +<p>So little like a dog the creature looked, she could not determine to +what breed it belonged, but it seemed to have been something between +a mastiff and a wolfhound. Now it was just a huge, wasted wreck, +glaring-eyed, demented, that man had made.</p> + +<p>And she looked out at it and pitied it and loved it with that boundless +love and sympathy for all suffering things, that is the best part of +the female nature.</p> + +<p>So he had stood in that stone-paved yard, week in week out for seven +years—day after day, night after night, of burning sun and intolerable +heat, or icy cold and cutting winds. No shelter, not even a kennel, not +even a trace of straw. All round him was a ring of shining white on the +grey flags which his scratching feet had made in his hopeless efforts +to be free; and the physical sufferings were the least of what he had +borne. The worst had been the awful monotony of those long, dreary +days without hope, without aim or occupation: that emptiness and that +sameness that preys on an animal’s brain just as much as on a man’s.</p> + +<p>Chained up in his youthful days, with all the wild longings for the +twenty-mile run, the smell of the wildwoods, the finding of mates, +fermenting in his blood, with his great canine heart full of that +wonderful enthusiastic worship of man that Nature has planted there, +longing for love and companionship, for the touch of a kind hand on +his head, he had watched the homestead with wistful, hungering eyes. +And because, when people approached him, he had tugged so frantically +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> +at his chain and pawed the air to show his joy and longing to follow +them, he had been thought savage, and when he had cried out in his +loneliness, he had been beaten into quietude; but his agony and his +sorrow, and his wonder at it all was so great that even those cruel +thrashings had not silenced him.</p> + +<p>And now, after seven years of this, he was to be shot to-morrow! The +girl, looking out at him, understood all he had gone through, and +a fierce resentment against his tormentors rose and swelled within +her like a great wave. Somehow, she would save him, she determined, +and give him a little happiness before he died; give him that love +and sympathy his heart had been craving for all those years. She had +forgotten herself, forgotten it was her wedding evening—a time so +passionately anticipated during her engagement. As for Eric, he seemed +to have disappeared from her. Somewhere between the Church and the +farmhouse the Eric she loved had vanished. How could she reach that +poor, condemned prisoner? If she went down now to the farmhouse door +she would be heard unfastening it, even if she could move those solid +bars. If she were seen in the yard she would certainly be followed and +prevented from getting near the dog. No one else could be persuaded to +release him. Everyone was afraid of those gleaming teeth and blood-shot +eyes. She would only probably succeed in getting him shot that night +instead of to-morrow. And how would they shoot him? Not with one +merciful bullet sent direct to the brain; but probably aiming from a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> +distance, they might shoot and wound him a dozen times and then perhaps +leave him dying and not dead.</p> + +<p>They would certainly kill him in the same clumsy, misunderstanding way +they had treated him while alive. Merely to release him in his present +condition, wild-looking and supposed to be mad, would be no kindness. +If he dashed away he would soon be followed, perhaps stoned by the +screaming rabble of the village. No, she must not only release him, she +must take him away and with her. He was her dog now. No one wanted him. +He was going to be shot. Well, she would not have that. She would take +him. Then suddenly she remembered Eric. He would certainly object! and +she was married. She had to consult him.</p> + +<p>She turned from the window in a sudden panic—she was a prisoner, too. +And her gaoler was of the stamp of the men downstairs. How awful this +was! She had never meant to marry such a man. Had he shown himself +before the ceremony as he had at the supper here, she would never have +married him. Her hands turned cold, and her knees shook. She sank down +in a chair by the fire. She had never realized the prison side of +marriage.</p> + +<p>Union with the twin soul she had thought she had found in Eric had not +suggested it. But now she saw how the case was. Had she been travelling +alone she could have gone to the farmer and paid him his own price for +the dog and taken him away with her, openly. It would have been quite +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> +simple. But now she knew instinctively Eric would not let her do this +and as he was against her as well as all those downstairs, the dog +would probably be shot before her eyes and she would be powerless to +prevent it because she had given up her single freedom of action, given +up the right over her own conduct. And to that man! It was horrible. +Her nails sank into her clenched hands. In that moment she longed to +be free of that room, free of her marriage as the dog outside longed +to be free of his chain. The sex passion is infinitely curious in its +nature. Though in some ways so strong, so resistless, yet in others it +is so frail a plant that the lightest wind may sweep it away. Eva had +given to Eric not only love and admiration, but also the natural joyous +passion of awakened girlhood. Now all these were equally dead. She sat +there, numb and cold with only one desire—to save the dog and escape.</p> + +<p>As she sat trying to think out some plan of action, the door opened +and Eric came in. The supper had done him good; his bad temper was +forgotten. He came in smiling, and she saw again the old Eric with the +“engagement expression.” Suddenly it occurred to her she could win her +way by blandishment however her feelings might have changed. For the +dog’s sake she must dissemble and act.</p> + +<p>She went up to him with arms outstretched.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Eric darling, I am so glad you have come. Do do me a favor, and +I’ll simply adore you. Do let us buy that poor dog and take him away +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> +with us and make up to him for all he has suffered.”</p> + +<p>The smile died away from the man’s face. He unclasped her arms from his +neck.</p> + +<p>“But, my dear child, he’s mad. You can’t take a mad dog about with you. +His own people are afraid to go near him.”</p> + +<p>“I should think they would be after the way they have treated him,” she +answered with burning indignation. “But <i>I’m</i> not afraid of him. +He is not mad. He is only crazy with loneliness and thirst. Let me go +down and release him, and I’ll be responsible for him.”</p> + +<p>Eric stared at her in amazement and with a growing anger fed by +jealousy and wounded vanity.</p> + +<p>A man’s nerves and state of general self-control are not at their best +on such an occasion as this, and in his unbalanced condition it seemed +intolerable to him that his bride should not be wholly occupied with +himself but should be worrying over a miserable brute of a dog. It did +not occur to him that she was only now displaying those qualities that +had so much attracted him from the first—that soft, warm heart, that +all-embracing love and sympathy that coupled with her physical beauty +had made him decide to marry her out of all the women he might have +chosen. It did not occur to him either what a priceless possession +of adoring love he might have gained for all the rest of his life by +yielding to her then and conquering himself; nor how, for ever he would +kill his own future by opposition. He was simply intensely angry, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> +jealous and annoyed and blinded by hurt vanity and selfish passion.</p> + +<p>“It’s our <i>duty</i> to do something,” she urged. “Come and look at +him,” and she drew him, reluctant, to the window.</p> + +<p>The dog stood in the same position at the end of the hateful chain! his +eyes glaring, his mouth open, his body shivering. The man and woman +looked out at him together. The woman’s eyes saw a fellow creature’s +suffering soul, the man saw—a mad dog.</p> + +<p>“It’s really nothing whatever to do with us,” he expostulated, “it’s +not our business. The people who own him must know how to manage him. +Why do you bother yourself about it!”</p> + +<p>Eva turned and gazed at him with sheer surprise.</p> + +<p>“But Eric, we couldn’t possibly enjoy ourselves and sleep comfortably +up here knowing he is there in such misery!”</p> + +<p>“Of course, we could, if you were not so silly about it,” he answered.</p> + +<p>Eva was silent. Power to reply seemed taken away from her in face of +this colossal adamantine hardness. She began to realise that this man +she had married was not at all the exceptional individual she had +imagined, but just the ordinary usual human being, not actively cruel, +but absolutely indifferent and callous, not caring about anything +except the satisfaction of his senses and the comfort of his own body.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, if you could, I couldn’t,” she said after a moment. “Let me go +down and unchain him and tell the people I’ll buy him. If you don’t +want him with us, I’ll send him to my sister to keep for me.”</p> + +<p>“To attempt to unchain a dog in that condition is going to your death,” +he said shortly, keeping control over himself as well as he could.</p> + +<p>“I am sure it’s not so, but even if it were and I feel it’s my duty, +I ought to do it. Why, Eric, how many times in the War did you not go +forward to almost certain death just because it was your duty?”</p> + +<p>Eric coloured furiously.</p> + +<p>“That may be, but I’m not going to risk my life now to free a mad dog.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not asking you to. I want to free him.”</p> + +<p>“And my answer is, you shan’t do anything so damnably foolish.” Swept +by a sudden whirl of anger that was utterly beyond him to control, he +strode across the room, locked the door, tore out the key and flung it +with all his force through the window. It fell tinkling on the stone +flags of the yard.</p> + +<p>“Now that ends all this damned nonsense,” he said violently, and drew +her roughly away from the window which he closed, and pulled the +curtain across.</p> + +<p>The girl stood as if turned into stone. As the key fell, a cry escaped +her. A cry so bitter with hate and loathing that he might well have +shuddered if he had noted it. But he did not. He did not realise it was +the death-cry of the last shred of love or feeling of allegiance to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> +him that was left in her heart.</p> + +<p>The explosion of rage had helped Eric to become normal again. Having +now secured, as he supposed, beyond all possibility of doubt, his own +way, he became calmer. The brain-storm passed. He came up to where she +stood, mute and motionless by the hearth.</p> + +<p>“Darling,” he said, attempting to draw her into his arms, “don’t be +stupid and spoil all our pleasure. Have you forgotten how we looked +forward to being like this alone together?”</p> + +<p>She wrenched herself away from him, and there was such a fury of +resentment in her eyes that even he fell back from her with a confused +sense of having made some fatal error. Women were intended by Nature to +rule the world, not men, and that is why any attempt to coerce a woman +by man generally fails.</p> + +<p>“Don’t touch me,” she said in a voice low and sharp with the intensity +of her anger. “You shall never touch me again.”</p> + +<p>“You seem to forget you’re my wife,” he said hotly.</p> + +<p>“If I am fifty thousand times your wife I will never give myself to +you. You can kill me first.”</p> + +<p>Eric stepped back and regarded her with dismay. He was face to face now +with a force which he could only dimly comprehend. But as the storm +had passed from his brain, it had left his intellect fairly clear, and +he began to see things were getting serious. Somehow he was making a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> +mess of it. Mechanically he turned away, fumbling in his pocket for his +cigarette case. He drew out a cigarette, lighted it and began to smoke. +What would be best to do, he wondered. Perhaps, if he said nothing +she would calm down again. He rather wished he had not been so hasty. +He wished he had put the key in his pocket instead of throwing it out +of the window. There was no getting out of the room now for either of +them. He regretted he had not been wiser and temporised more.</p> + +<p>Presently he threw himself into a chair, and watched her furtively. Her +eyes were turned away towards the fire. She stood like a thing turned +into stone.</p> + +<p>“What are we going to do, then?” he said, half banteringly, when the +silence became unbearable. “Sit up all night?”</p> + +<p>“As you please,” the girl replied, without turning her head. He +wondered what she was thinking about, and debated feverishly with +himself what he should do or say. He would have been astonished if he +could have known her thoughts. He had not the faintest conception of +the character and the will he was dealing with.</p> + +<p>The girl stood there,—Herself, sunk utterly in her thought. How to +gain her end and carry out the dog’s deliverance was the only thing +that occupied her. Eric’s last words had suddenly flashed a light into +her brain. For a moment, when the key had whizzed by her and clinked +on the stones without, hope had died in her. It seemed so impossible +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> +then to ever reach the poor chained one down there in time, but now his +words, “sit up all night” showed her suddenly the contrary proposition. +If Eric were once asleep and she, alone awake in the room, she could +effect her escape from it by the window. Her heart gave a suffocating +leap upward as the whole plan unrolled itself like a map before her +mental vision. Light and agile as a cat, it would be possible for +her to swing herself down by knotted sheets to the yard, loose the +prisoner, and with him run through the moon-lighted country, back to +that station down the line their train had passed, and catch the first +one back to London. It was all most dangerous and difficult, most open +to failure, still it was a <i>possible</i> plan—if Eric were asleep.</p> + +<p>And with an infinite sense of horror and loathing, she realised the +best and perhaps the only way to ensure his sleep was to reverse all +she had said, to humiliate herself, to act a part, to give herself to +him—and let him sleep. She saw his plan now was to sit up and smoke +waiting and hoping she would change her mind. Time was passing, and +each silver minute of the night brought the prisoner outside nearer to +his doom.</p> + +<p>She suddenly bent her head down on the mantelpiece. Nothing she would +hate so much now as the caress of this man in whose caresses she had +once so rejoiced! These moments she had so looked forward to, how +horrible, how terrible they were now! His embrace! Surely with that +fury of resentment in her heart, she would suffocate in it! But the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> +dog had to be saved, and to accomplish that she would go through any +suffering, any degradation. She drew herself together with a supreme +effort of will, and turned to the man in the chair.</p> + +<p>“Eric, I am so sorry I spoke as I did. Let’s never mind about anything. +Let’s forget it. Kiss me.”</p> + +<p>He had sprung to his feet at her first word. She was beside him now, +looking up at him with her glorious eyes full of light and her face +glowing with smiles, though her heart was shuddering within her.</p> + +<p>“Darling, my own, I am so sorry too,” Eric was covering her upturned +face with kisses. “My dearest, my very own.”</p> + +<p>Outside, the dog stood cold and stiff in the damp night air, aching +with thirst, his poor, half-crazy eyes turned up to the moonlit sky +from which no mercy came. The hours crept by, till the clock in the +village struck three. For seven years he had listened to those strokes +that marked the passing hours, hours that never brought him nearer to +liberty, to the free use of his cramped limbs, to any of the natural +joys for which he had been created. He sank wearily down on his +haunches. He could no longer cry out; his voice seemed broken in his +throat, his tongue was swollen and black. He kept his head turned to +the window where he had seen the two figures stand looking at him. +Some faint, dull hope had stirred in him that they might be thinking +of him, that they might be coming to him to alleviate his misery and +his torment of thirst. But no, the window had been shut and had gone +dark.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> + +<p>Inside the room the strokes of the clock vibrated through the +stillness, and Eva, lying open-eyed and filled with desperate +impatience, slid noiselessly out of bed, and with soundless movements +and feverish haste began to dress. Eric was asleep. Never in all her +life had she prayed for anything so fervently as she did now that he +might remain so. With infinite caution she crept about the room, making +her toilet to the minutest detail. Within her all her personal self +felt humiliated, outraged, seething with fury, but she would not think +of herself, only of the work ahead to be done.</p> + +<p>Hurry generally means noise. Therefore, filled with burning impatience +as she was, she had to move slowly, regulating each movement and each +tip-toe step. Once Eric moved and sighed, and she started in terror +and stood motionless, but he did not awake, and with a thumping heart +and trembling fingers she went on with her preparations. When she was +fully dressed to her hat, and with her gloves and purse stowed away in +her bodice, together with Eric’s clasp-knife that he had left lying on +the table, she approached the unoccupied bed standing in the corner +by the window, and inch by inch drew the sheets from it. These alone +would have been too short a length for her purpose even when knotted +together at their extreme ends, but she took the counterpane as well, +and all three end to end she judged would let her nearly to the ground. +At their country place at home her father had shown her how to escape +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> +in case of fire, and she knew now exactly what to do. She knotted +the corner of the sheet tightly round the little wooden post of the +bed, and then there was the barrier of the window to be surmounted. +She did not dare to draw back the curtains for fear of the rattle of +their rings, but she lifted them slowly and silently to one side and +then with both hands and infinite care, guided the spring blind up and +looked out. Her heart gave a leap of boundless sympathy as she saw the +great dog sitting at the end of his tightly-drawn chain, still gazing +towards the window—his only hope—as he had been hours ago.</p> + +<p>No Juliet felt more eager to join her Romeo than this girl did now +to get to the suffering animal and soothe its pain. And of such +natures is the Kingdom of Heaven. Such people are those who make this +earth a little less like hell. Blind and curtain out of the way, it +still remained to open the window without noise. Very, very softly +with indrawn breath and shaking heart, she raised it half way, just +enough to let her through. Then she paid out her long rope of knotted +bedclothes, and looking out, she saw it reached to within about eight +feet of the yard. Then, as often before in the fire drill, she crept +on to the window sill, twisted her feet well round the dangling cloths +and gripped them hard in her little hands. Then down, down she swung +her light weight and dropped at length noiselessly to the ground. The +captive in the yard rose to his feet and lowered his head, staring at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> +her fixedly, but he gave no sound. Some instinct seemed to tell him +that all this strange proceeding had something to do with him.</p> + +<p>The girl, once out of the room and away from the sleeping man she had +sworn to love and honour and cleave to till death, felt such a rush of +joyous elation that it seemed to give her wings. Quite half her work +was successfully accomplished. She ran swift and silent as a shadow +across the yard.</p> + +<p>As he realised she was actually coming to him, the enormous dog tore at +his chain, and as he could not advance he reared himself on his hind +legs, his front pawing at the air, his eyes almost out of his head, +his foaming jaws wide open. It was a fearsome sight, but the girl went +on unflinchingly, straight up to the desperate animal. Tall as she was +the dog stood as high as herself, and as she reached him his great +bony, shaggy paws descended heavily on her shoulders, and she put both +her arms out under them and clasped him to her warm, loving breast. +And the animal enveloped in that marvelous electricity that flowed out +from her, soothed and calmed instantly by that contact with true loving +humanity which he had longed for all through his dreary life stood +perfectly still, all his raging pulses calmed, all his tormenting pains +dying away.</p> + +<p>“Darling, be good now while I release you,” she said in his ear, and +gently let him slide to his four feet. Then she knelt down beside him +and put her hands to his collar.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> + +<p>The dog understood perfectly she had come to release him. At last, at +last he would be free, and he stood patient and still as a statue, +only his whole frame quivered and thrilled with joy. He felt her +little fingers trying desperately to undo the hateful collar. Eva’s +heart beat almost to choke her. Suppose, suppose she failed to get it +undone. Seven years had solidified the leather almost into iron; the +brass point that pierced the leather was embedded in and had become one +almost with it.</p> + +<p>Both were welded together under a thick coat of verdigris. Every nail +on her fingers was broken before she gave up the hopeless task of +unstrapping it. Then, keeping one hand on the dog’s head, she felt in +her bosom for the knife.</p> + +<p>Because she understood him so perfectly, and that his loneliness and +forsaken neglect had been the chief sorrow of his life, she knew +just how to manage him. When she failed to undo the collar, he felt +his heart die within him and had she moved away from him, his poor +desperate brain would have given way. But she kept quite close to +him and that told him that all hope was not lost, and nerved him to +patience. The collar was loose for the hair had been rubbed and the +neck wasted away which had filled it, and there was room for the +knife-blade to pass under the leather.</p> + +<p>“Hold still, now, don’t move,” she whispered in tense tones, and then +sawed with all her strength, outwards on the collar.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span></p> + +<p>It seemed incredibly hard, but the knife was sharp and leather must in +the end yield to steel.</p> + +<p>After minutes that seemed hours she cut it through, and with one great +bound the dog leapt away from chain and collar. Free! Free in the +moonlit night! Eva rose to her feet, and he came back to her, lowering +his great body down to the earth on his fore-paws, and then springing +to his full height to put them on her breast to show his rapture. +Elated, joyous, but still in terror of being overtaken, Eva threw one +rapid glance over the silent house and up to the window where her long +white rope hung gleaming in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>Then “Come,” she said to the dog, and close, side by side, they raced +out of the yard by the door just behind where he had been chained. A +door that was never fastened for he had guarded it so faithfully and +securely. Out of the yard and through the wasty farmyard adjoining, +then over the low wall surrounding it, and they were out on the slope, +tearing away like mad things to the shelter of the wood.</p> + +<p>Here they continued to run, down the narrow, mossy path that Eric +and she had come by, filled with such different feelings the evening +before. Silent now, with all their strength given to speed, but with +perfect union of intention, they steadied down to an even trot, the dog +modifying his pace to the human being’s. He knew that she had saved +him, freed him, and he was now her faithful slave for life. No evil, +no danger should come near her. No enemy could lay a finger on her as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> +long as an atom of strength remained in him to defend her. He was hers +and she was his till death.</p> + +<p>At last they reached the spot where the train had pulled up the +previous evening, and Eva, still hounded by the fear of pursuit, after +a few minutes’ rest, ran on steadily, taking a little path that passed +beneath evergreens near the railway.</p> + +<p>The station down the line was thirteen miles distant, yet such is the +force of joy and the power of will and determination that the girl felt +hardly fatigued when she saw the red and green lights ahead of her; and +she walked into the booking office with a light and springing step as +the yawning clerk opened it.</p> + +<p>The next train to London, the first in the day to carry the mails, left +in fifteen minutes. She took her ticket and a dog ticket, and went out +on to the platform and sat down. She felt such happiness, such joy +in her success, her accomplished plan, that nothing in her life had +equalled it, and all sense of pain and tiredness were entirely drowned +in it.</p> + +<p>The dog was more distressed than she. He fell heavily at her feet +as she sat down. He was footsore, his limbs ached and he was oh, so +thirsty, but he minded nothing. He was content.</p> + +<p>Eva had been afraid to wait to give him water, but she bent over him +now, looking anxiously at his swollen, hanging tongue. He did not ask +for anything, only looked up at her with great eyes from which the +wildness was already dying away; for had he not felt a soft hand on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> +his head and heard a kind voice in his ear?</p> + +<p>She rose to seek water for him, and, stiff and sore though he was, he +dragged himself to his feet to follow her. He could not bear her to +move away from him.</p> + +<p>There was a little tap of water standing out from the wall further down +the platform, and stooping down, she turned it on and made a little +bowl of her two small, pink-palmed hands for him to drink from. At +first he seemed hardly able to swallow, nor get the water over his +swollen tongue, but she waited patiently, and at last he drank easily +and freely as long as she thought good for him. Then they walked +back to the seat and she sat down and took his head on her knees and +smoothed back the harsh, rough hair and looked deep into his eyes, and +they talked together, as lovers do, in looks and silence.</p> + +<p>At last the train arrived, and the guard of it came along, swinging +his lantern. He stopped when he caught sight of her daintily-dressed +figure, and the huge, rough wolfhound at her side. She turned to him, +her hand on the carriage door.</p> + +<p>“Can I take him in the carriage with me?” she asked.</p> + +<p>The guard flashed his light over them.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’ll be all right. The train’s almost empty,” he replied, +eyeing the dog. He was not at all anxious to have the grim-looking +beast shut up with him in his van.</p> + +<p>“Not many people travels at this time of night,” he added +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> +inquisitively, looking in at her after she was seated and the dog had +dropped onto the floor of the carriage.</p> + +<p>Eva made no response, and he turned away mumbling in a dissatisfied +tone: “Runaways and eloping couples, thieves and such—them’s wot +travels at night.”</p> + +<p>Two or three minutes more of this anguished suspense and then the train +started, gathered speed and they were away—safe. She leant over the +dog with a joyous laugh. Oh, the relief of that moving train! Not Eric +nor Bates, nor all the farm hands could overtake them now.</p> + +<p>“He talked of eloping couples; that’s just what we are, aren’t we, +darling?” And the dog beat his great, waving brush of a tail on the +carriage floor for answer. She sat back in a corner, for the first time +realising that she was very tired, but the joy at her heart glowed more +fiercely every moment as the train rushed on its non-stop run to town. +She had done it all; she had succeeded so admirably. She had saved the +dog. She did not believe they could be separated now. If Bates sued +her for stealing his dog she was ready to pay his full value which the +farmer would probably prefer; and Eric? What would he do or say or +think when he woke and found himself alone in the room where he had +locked himself? Would he climb down the sheets as she had done? She +wondered and laughed. But whatever he did he should never approach her +again.</p> + +<p>Arrived in town she went straight to her sister, a girl of twenty, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> +widowed in the War, who had always strenuously disapproved of Eric. +Brushing past the astonished footman in the hall, she ran upstairs and +found the beautiful Linda still in bed. She sat up in astonishment as +Eva and the great hound burst into the room.</p> + +<p>“Linda, I’ve eloped!”</p> + +<p>“Well, you <i>are</i> modern! You were only married yesterday!”</p> + +<p>“I know,” Eva answered, sitting down in a deep armchair, “but I found I +hadn’t married the man I meant to after all, but somebody else that I +didn’t like at all.”</p> + +<p>“We most of us do that,” returned Linda, swinging two ivory feet out of +bed and eyeing the dog:</p> + +<p>“What a beautiful dog. What’s he doing here?”</p> + +<p>Few would have applied that adjective to the great creature stretched +before her. But Linda saw through the devastation man had made to the +original beauty given by Nature.</p> + +<p>“He is the cause of everything. I eloped with <i>him</i>.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean? Tell me everything, now, from the beginning,” and +Linda wrapped herself in a rose-hued gown and settled herself to +listen. The dog stretched himself out on his side between them and +fell asleep, worn out, not so much by the physical exertions as the +conflicting emotions of the night.</p> + +<p>Eva told all; shortly, incisively. Only once did she give rein to her +feelings—when she had to tell how she had bought Eric’s passivity and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> +sleep—she sprang up with her hands clenched into knots.</p> + +<p>“If I have a child by him, I’ll kill it before it breathes!” she +exclaimed. “What is the good of multiplying callous brutes like that?”</p> + +<p>Linda listened attentively to the end. Then she rose and rang the bell.</p> + +<p>“You poor thing, you must be quite worn out. What you want is breakfast +first and then sleep.”</p> + +<p>“But did I do rightly? Do tell me what you think, Lin.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I think so, and I think you have made a good exchange. A dog +will never disappoint you—never go back on you—never be unkind to +you, never be unfaithful to you and a man will—always.”</p> + +<p>Eva sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes.</p> + +<p>“It’s so good to be back with you, Lin.”</p> + +<p>The maid brought in hot coffee, and a huge breakfast tray of delicious +edibles, and the girls laughed and talked as they ate, and the dog who +had had bones flung to him on the flags, had a pile of delicate curly +slices of bacon on a hand-painted porcelain dish. After breakfast Linda +insisted on Eva going to bed, and there in that soundless room the girl +and dog slept away the morning hours.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon Eric came, and Eva went down to see him in the library.</p> + +<p>“What does all this mean?” he asked as she closed the door and stood +facing him.</p> + +<p>“I am not coming back to you. Linda has asked me to stay with her, and +I have accepted.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span></p> + +<p>“But you married me!”</p> + +<p>“No, that’s where you make the mistake. I married a dream man, a man +of my own imagination, a man who was decent and kind and humane, quite +different from you altogether.”</p> + +<p>Eric flushed a dull, angry red.</p> + +<p>“You consummated the marriage with <i>me</i> anyhow; you won’t deny +that, I suppose?” he said.</p> + +<p>A look of intense repulsion came over her face.</p> + +<p>“For the dog’s sake, I gave myself to you, though I <i>loathed</i> +you,” she answered in a low tone, full of repressed vehemence.</p> + +<p>“For the dog’s sake,” repeated Eric, growing more and more bewildered +and less and less able to solve the problem that woman always presents +to man. “How? I don’t understand.”</p> + +<p>“You had determined to sit up all night and prevent me going to him; if +I had had any chloroform or any drug to put you to sleep I would have +given it to you. I had nothing but myself so I gave you that.”</p> + +<p>She was standing close to him and looking straight into his eyes. The +gaze was relentless and bright as the blade of a sword.</p> + +<p>“But your kisses—your wonderful passion—your insistence—” he +stammered.</p> + +<p>“It was all for his sake. I tell you, I hated and loathed you.”</p> + +<p>“It was damned good acting then.”</p> + +<p>“It could hardly exceed yours during our engagement,” she flashed back.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span></p> + +<p>“Acting, no, it was prostitution,” he said with a sudden storm of +anger, “if what you say now is true.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps; you may call it what you please. I would do anything in the +world to save a helpless and suffering animal and be proud of it,” she +answered.</p> + +<p>Eric turned away and took a few paces up the long room. She angered +him. In a way he longed to strike her for what she said to him, but +the memory of last night clung to him and held him. It had been so +wonderful, so perfect, her love, real or assumed; she looked now so +bright, so true, so undaunted, he longed for her, coveted her more than +ever he had done in the past. He could not imagine how they had drifted +into this mess. He had tried hard to please her during their engagement +and had succeeded. He had won her. How had he lost her so soon? He did +not know what to say, nor how to act. And all about this stupid dog; he +would kill the beast if he could get hold of it.</p> + +<p>“What can we do now?” he said, at last in a tone of bewildered +perplexity.</p> + +<p>“We must get a divorce. I believe it can be managed somehow. Your wife +has eloped, deserted you, refuses to come back, go to a lawyer and see +what he can do for you. If those charges are not enough, I have done +more for I married a good man, and my wedding night was passed with +somebody else, another totally different man. If a lawyer can’t twist +that into cause for divorce, he can’t be much of a lawyer. I don’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> +want to spoil your whole life, so I give you leave to say anything you +like about me.”</p> + +<p>And before he had realised it, she had opened the door and had gone, +and though he stormed and swore and summoned the servants and Linda +came down to him, nothing would induce Eva to see him again.</p> + +<p>She vanished from him and all he could do was to follow her advice and +seek consolation of his lawyers.</p> + +<p>About a year later, had anyone passed through the scarlet land of +poppies at Cromer, he would have seen two girls sitting among them, +looking out to the hazy sea, and a great wolfhound lying between +them. He has been christened Joy, and his sparkling eye and glossy +coat, his rounded form and waving brush of a tail all speak to the +appropriateness of his name.</p> + +<p>He and Eva are inseparable and he understands her looks, her tones, her +words. He understands <i>her</i> far better than Eric ever had, and at +any moment he would lay down his life joyfully for her sake.</p> + +<p>“I see that Eric has married again, Eva,” Linda said presently. “So now +you are really and truly free. Do you think you will ever marry again, +yourself?”</p> + +<p>“Not while Joy lives,” Eva answered, her little hand resting on his +neck and buried in its thick, glossy black hair. “I would never give +him a rival. The next man might want to chain him up in the yard! Then +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> +we’d have to run away again, wouldn’t we, Joy?”</p> + +<p>And the great dog leapt to his feet and gave a deep, musical bark in +answer, bounding backwards and forwards and leaping up to them as the +two girls rose and wended their way slowly through the poppies, emblems +of peace and forgetfulness, home.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_JEWEL_CASKET">THE JEWEL CASKET</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The wind howled miserably round the great London station and pierced +the thin, worn clothing of Jim Thorn and Bill Smith as they loitered, +hands in pockets, near the mouth of one of the draughty passages.</p> + +<p>It was a bitter January evening and neither inside them nor outside +them had the men anything to keep them warm.</p> + +<p>“It ain’t no sort of use, Bill,” remarked Jim, drearily, after a long +silence during which both men had been gazing across the wide space +filled with moving figures to where the refreshment buffet threw out +its warm and cheery glow speaking of the tempting delights within. +“We shan’t get a job here to-night. There’s too many reg’lar porters +about.” He was a thin, spare man, with a long white face in which shone +two grey eyes of a kindly expression. Once a good gardener, ill-health +and ill-luck had brought him to evil days.</p> + +<p>“Go on with yer! Who came here after a job?” snarled the other, +in every way a contrast to his companion: thick-set and heavy, +bull-necked, long-lipped and cruel-eyed. “It’s pinching we’re after and +I’ll get something to-night or I’m not Bill Smith.” Lie finished his +sentence with an oath. The other made no reply, only sank into a still +more slouching position against the wall. The crowd of passengers +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> +before them had swelled. There were many coming out from the ticket +office following well-filled trucks of luggage. It was not long now +to the departure of a favorite express into Kent. Jim Thorn’s gaze +drifted about the throng until it lighted on a girl’s figure, one of a +newly-arrived party, and there it remained. His eyes followed her about +with interest, not because he thought she had anything to “pinch,” but +because, in his own instinctive, uneducated way, he loved all pretty +things. She was a very pretty young lady in her plain dark clothes and +her heavy furs, with a slim tall figure and golden curly hair peeping +out from underneath her small black velvet hat. Jim looked at her with +pleasure. He quite forgot about the hot coffee he had been dreaming of +in watching her dainty movements.</p> + +<p>It did not occur to him to envy her furs or her warm clothing, nor +to be wrathful with her that she had them, and he had not. His mind +was not of the Socialist order. He no more expected her to give him +her cloak than he expected himself to give his coat to one who had +only waistcoat and trousers. Her cloak was hers and his coat was his, +and could he have explained his mental attitude in words, he would +have told you that he was jolly glad that the same law and order that +enabled the lady to keep her cloak, also gave him the right to keep his +coat and not have it torn off his back by one poorer than he. Although +the companion of a thief, he was by nature a respecter of property.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span></p> + +<p>Suddenly he felt a great grab on his arm, and Bill bent his large red +face close to him.</p> + +<p>“Look there!” he whispered excitedly. “The very thing I was looking +for. See that party?”</p> + +<p>Jim, following with his gaze Bill’s outstretched finger, saw to his +dismay that it indicated the very young girl he had been so admiring.</p> + +<p>“See that little case she has?” pursued his companion in his thick, +beery accents. “Mark my words, that a jool case!” His mouth was close +to Jim’s ear now. “P’raps dimonds, maybe pearls.” He let fly these +imposing words like darts into Jim’s ear.</p> + +<p>Jim straightened up and strained his eyes to see what the girl was +carrying. It certainly did look most inviting. A little square, rather +deep case of some dark wood, clamped carefully on all sides with metal, +and with a handle on the top through which the dainty hand of its owner +was passed. It looked as if pearls or diamonds might be lying on cotton +wool inside, and yet the sentimental Jim felt he did not want that +young lady robbed.</p> + +<p>“It’s a bit small,” he ventured lamely, in a discouraging tone.</p> + +<p>The burly one gave a contemptuous grunt. “Much good <i>you’d</i> be at +the game without me,” he answered. “Haven’t you never heard wot’s good +comes in small parcels? Don’t you know that small and valuable, easy to +sell and light to carry should be the pinchers’ motto? I’m onto that +there jool casket, if I dies for it.”</p> + +<p>“But you don’t know what’s in it,” argued Jim. “Maybe it’s just a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> +purse with not much in, an’ a ticket, an’ a hanky.”</p> + +<p>The other sniffed scornfully, his gaze glued on the girl’s hand as he +answered:</p> + +<p>“You just watch, as I do, an’ don’t talk so much. I’ve watched and +watched that girl till I knows wot’s in that casket as well as I knows +wot’s in my pocket. ’Ow do I know? Well, because she’s that careful +of it. She looks down at that little box every half-minute and just +now, when she set it down for a second and the porter comes by, up she +snatches it again and holds it to her, and w’en just now someone wanted +to take it off her while she fastened her jacket, she shakes her head +and clings on all the time.”</p> + +<p>“It’ll take some doing to get it,” replied Jim, with intensifying gloom.</p> + +<p>“I can manage it,” returned Bill, swelling out his chest. “You’ll see. +I’ll always take trouble for jools, and jools they is. Girls don’t go +on like that about anything else.”</p> + +<p>“P’raps it’s her young man’s picture,” suggested the sentimental Jim in +a last hope of changing his companion’s intention, though the little +square box with its clamp did not suggest a portrait-case.</p> + +<p>The light from where the men stood was not very good and the dark case +sank indistinguishably into the shadow of the girl’s dress. Bill could +not see to his satisfaction what shape and look it really had but the +girl’s intense solicitude for it carried complete conviction to his +mind which was unable to imagine anything being of value except what +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> +could be turned into cash.</p> + +<p>The conversation came to an end as the crowd of passengers moved toward +the barrier. It was time for action and the two thieves mingled with +the stream of hurrying humanity and pressed closely up behind the party +to which the girl with the jewel-case belonged. She was certainly very +careful of it. She held it tightly and firmly to her so that it could +not be caught or brushed out of her grasp by any jostling or hustling +movement and she constantly glanced down on it as if to assure herself +of its safety. The train had not come up and the throng swayed back +again, Bill and Jim moving naturally with it, but always quite close +to the girl. They were, though thinly and poorly dressed, not ragged, +or in their aspect in any way likely to attract attention. Bill, +especially, had adapted for the occasion quite a traveling appearance +and had a light overcoat on one arm. True it was only a bit of an +overcoat, but when skilfully draped on the arm, looked quite well and +might have its uses. Their quarry now approached the book-stall to the +delight of Bill, but though the girl stopped to look with interest at +the books and papers and even purchased one of the latter, she never +once set down the little box. The train was now due and the passengers +thickly bunched near the barrier to the platform. Once through the +barrier the girl would be, as Jim put it to himself, “safe,” for he +really did not want to see that box filched from her slender hand, and +as Bill put it to himself, “lorst.” He felt desperate and was just +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> +inwardly cursing his luck when luck itself favoured him. The girl was +standing chatting to the older persons of her group, presumably her +parents, when a young man, leading a fat terrier, hurriedly joined the +throng round the gates. Bill’s eye fell on the dog, and he instantly +moved to the side of the girl farthest from the young man. With a +movement of his hand he attracted the dog’s attention, and next moment +the chain was wound round the girl’s ankles. The dog-owner pulled at +the chain, but to free herself she had to take it from his hand, and to +do so, for one moment, she set the box down beside her. In the second, +while she stooped over the dog, Bill’s great hand dropped on the +box. It was lifted and under his hanging coat, and he and Jim sifted +themselves out of the press of passengers now swaying to the gates +which had just been opened. Calmly, quietly, with blank faces, Jim and +Bill crossed the station to the exit, hearing in their rear a sort of +confused clamour which told them the owner of the box had discovered +her loss.</p> + +<p>No one stopped them, no one looked at them. They slipped through the +wind-swept passage, and in a few seconds were out in the street; still +without apparent haste, but at a good pace, they turned down a side +alley and made a short cut for “home.” As they turned down one silent, +dark street, Bill, swelling with satisfaction, opened out on his +companion.</p> + +<p>“Now you see wot it is. But for me you’d never have got this necklace, +or tiary, whichever it is, an’ we might have stayed grubbin’ at ’ome +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> +all winter. Now we’ll have a trip abroad for it won’t do to try and +sell ’em here. It ain’t safe for pearls and dimonds.”</p> + +<p>“We don’t know yet that they is pearls and dimonds,” objected Jim.</p> + +<p>“There you go. You haven’t the brain to imagine anything,” returned +Bill loftily. “And what do you think a young lady would be +carrying—herself—personally, mind, when she had a strappin’ maid +walking behind her with a dressing-case a yard square. Maybe you’d have +gone for that dressing-case,” he added, with a crushing sneer. “That’s +the ordinary brain all over. Sees what’s just ahead an’ no more; goes +for the gilt-topped bottles and lets the tiarys go. Now p’raps when +we’ve sold the jools and are getting a fling on the Continnong you’ll +be grateful you’ve got such a partner and you won’t be so narsty about +it.”</p> + +<p>It was a bitter night; sleeting now and with scurries of icy wind and +snow. In the sky a moon was struggling up amongst thick black clouds, +the streets and alleys through which they passed were slippery, wet +and dark. Arrived at a dingy building with a gaping open doorway, they +groped their way up an unlighted stone staircase and reached their +“pitch” at the top in safety. Bill marched in first with the air of a +conqueror, and Jim followed, bolting the door after him. There was a +little light from the remains of a smouldering fire in the grate.</p> + +<p>Jim stirred it into a blaze and fed it with some split-up egg-boxes, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> +and Bill turned on the gas and lighted it.</p> + +<p>“That’s my job,” he said, setting down the little dark case on the +table, “and a neat bit of work I calls it, and that dawg helped +wonderful.”</p> + +<p>Jim regarded it mournfully. Odd though it may seem this strange waif of +humanity was not thinking of the rich contents; he was wondering what +the poor young lady was feeling at having lost it.</p> + +<p>The light revealed a curious den in which these two lived. A folding +bed of ancient date with one side sagging to the floor, in the corner. +A capacious cupboard in the wall through the half-open door of which +strange and various articles were protruding, a table in the centre +with scattered tin cups and plates and battered tin teapot on it and on +the window ledge a cracked flower-pot with a primrose-root growing in +it—Jim’s.</p> + +<p>“Now, then,” said Bill, “let’s have a look.” He took up the box and +turned it round. “Why, blimey, it hasn’t a lock,” he exclaimed, rather +blankly. “That don’t look like jools—only a bit of a catch like this, +and two ’oles each side. Wot the ’Ell’s that for?”</p> + +<p>With fingers beginning to tremble, he forced up the brass catch and +then tore open the lid, and then both men who had been bending forward +over their treasure, collapsed suddenly speechless, on the two chairs, +and sat opposite to each other staring across the table, for there +within the box was no necklace of rare pearls reposing on velvet +cushions, but a neat little nest of hay, from the centre of which +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> +looked out with enquiring eyes—two white mice!</p> + +<p>Very dainty silk-like coats of the purest white on which the gas-light +gleamed, tiny pink paws of the palest shell-like pink, little white +ears delicate as a butterfly’s wing and large eyes like glowing rubies. +Gentle and not dreaming that anyone could hurt them, they looked up at +the staring faces of the men over them, unafraid, and began polishing +their noses with their tiny paws.</p> + +<p>Bill recovered from the shock first. With a foul oath, he sprang to his +feet and made a grab at the box, but Jim was too quick for him. With +one of his agile movements that made him such an invaluable thief, he +snatched away the box before Bill’s heavy hand reached it, snapped down +its lid and held it firmly in both hands against his chest.</p> + +<p>“Wot yer goin’ to do with it?” he asked.</p> + +<p>For a full ten seconds, Bill swore all the best oaths he knew.</p> + +<p>“Do with it?” he roared at the finish. “Throw it on the fire and see +those vermin burn alive—you just give it me!”</p> + +<p>Jim turned pale and clutched the box tighter.</p> + +<p>“Now, Bill, you’d never do such a thing,” he urged anxiously. “They’s +done you no harm and it’s crool to burn them; no good’d come of it, +besides the lidy was fond of ’em, you saw that yourself, and maybe +there’ll be a reward. Here’s a name and address on the box.”</p> + +<p>This was sound sense, but Bill was blind and deaf with fury. No oaths +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> +nor mere words could suffice to vent his rage. Some horrible violence +and cruelty alone could do that. He made a lunge across the rickety +table, but Jim avoided him and backed against the wall. He was pale, +but his eyes shone with an indomitable light. A frail, small man with a +poor physique and little health or strength but there was a spirit in +him that had often stood up to and conquered the big bully before. He +saw now this might be a fight to the death, but he just felt he didn’t +care. He would be crushed to a pulp first before Bill got hold of the +box and burned those two little innocent things inside. His blood was +up and on its tide had risen that wonderful determination that can make +one weak man equal to ten strong ones. Bill was round the table in an +instant and let fly at him a blow from his ponderous fist which he +meant to stretch him senseless, but Jim dodged and it only caught the +corner of his eye and his lean arm seemed locked like steel across the +box on his chest and Bill wrenched at it in vain.</p> + +<p>Does some great current of electricity come into being with that mental +fixity of purpose and lend a determined combatant a strength altogether +beyond his own?</p> + +<p>It seemed so to Jim. He seemed full of some living force as he dodged +round the table and chairs and over the bed and Bill came floundering +after him, cursing and sending his blows wide of the mark. At last Jim +found himself close to the door and with a monkey’s quickness shot back +the bolt and fell through the opening door. Bill grabbed him by the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> +neck, but Jim wriggled so furiously that both men fell in a heap on the +top stair and then rolled to the bottom. As they bumped onto the last +step, Bill’s hands sank from the other’s neck and while Jim scrambled +to his feet he lay inert and crumpled on the lowest stair.</p> + +<p>Jim, breathless, his thin clothing torn and one eye closed, but still +gripping the box to his body, ran out into the street and to the +nearest lamp-post. There under the wavering light he read the address +on the casket-lid:</p> + +<p class="nindc"> +<span class="allsmcap">MISS TORRINGTON</span><br> +Hailstone Hall<br> +Sevenoaks, Kent.</p> + +<p>All the time Bill had been chasing him round the attic a resolution had +been forming in his mind. If he escaped with his life he would take the +box and its little inmates back to the young “lidy.”</p> + +<p>For years past in his low degraded existence this man’s soul had +vaguely yearned after goodness, as a plant in a dark cellar strains +with its colourless leaves towards its native light, but there was +little opportunity in his life overshadowed by Bill for anything but +crime. He hated Bill but he couldn’t get away from him. He had not +the strength of mind to say good-bye to the daring pal who kept the +attic supplied with bread and beer and knew exactly how to utilise in +his petty thievings the sharp agility of Jim. But now to-night was +the end of it all. Bill was down and out and the way lay clear to a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> +good action, and standing there in the biting cold with his bleeding +eye and bruised body, he thrilled through and through with joy. He had +done something already. He had foiled his companion’s brutal intention, +he had saved the animals, and now if he could restore the “lidy’s” +property to her safe and sound he felt he would be content no matter +what happened to himself. Possibly the thought of a reward struggled +for life at the back of his mind, but it was not the prompting motive, +and there was a risk of being turned over to the law and to prison on +returning the property, which far out-balanced the possible reward. To +have kept on the right side of his partner and destroyed the stolen +goods, as a business proposition, was far better, but the thought of +the lady’s pleasure and the joy of the little creatures that had looked +out so confidingly at him, attracted him just as the primrose blossoms +pleased his eyes when they bloomed in the Spring on his window ledge.</p> + +<p>Sevenoaks! Not so far away—a matter of twenty-four mile. He had +tramped it before in the hop-picking season; he could tramp it again. +It was a freezing night, but the moon was getting up, and if he had +luck he would be there in the morning. He raised the lid of the casket +and looked in to see if his treasures were still safe. Yes, there they +lay close side by side, like tiny snowballs tucked down in the hay +which had protected them through all the scuffling with Bill and the +roll down the stairs.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p> + +<p>Jim carefully snapped to the lid and put the box under his arm for +shelter against the searching wind. Then aching and shaky in body but +dauntless in mind he set out for his tramp to Sevenoaks. When the city +and its pitiless streets were left behind him and he had once reached +the open country road he felt happier. Here there were no police to +pass with a quaking heart as they sternly eyed his blood-stained face +and torn coat. He stepped out more strongly as the night wind of the +countryside blew in his face. It was cold but not so damp and cruel +as London’s breath. He looked over the hedge-tops across the wide +meadows with the shadowy form of sleeping cattle; he looked at the +trees arching over him and the tracery of their shadows on his path, +at the sky with the moon riding high in it through bands of scurrying +clouds, and he felt he loved it all. Wonderful indeed, as the Latin +poet sang, is the joy of the mind conscious of its own right doing, and +wonderful also is the dominion of man’s mind over his body. Jim, the +poor, penniless tramp, hungry and empty and aching, footsore, weary +and cold, marched on full of the greatest joy of his life because his +mind told him he was doing right. Many doubts and fears beset him and +much anxious questioning as to his reception and his fate but nothing +could quell that springing sense of joy in his heart as mile after mile +fell behind him. When the first red light of morning lit up the sky, it +shewed a forlorn and limping figure with a drawn and haggard face, but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> +with a proud, glad light in its one uninjured eye.</p> + +<p>The great gates of Hailstone Hall looked imposing enough, shut tight in +frosty splendour of twisted ironwork, but they were not locked and Jim +pushed them open with an unfaltering hand. The drive winding between +the velvet green of tall evergreen trees and with gleaming bands of +sparkling frost on each side, lay before him silent and solitary save +for the birds hopping across it, and Jim walked straight up the middle +of it and found himself with a beating heart on the steps before the +big front door. No slinking round by the back door for him with that +proud consciousness of right in his breast. He wanted no delays and +parleys with impeding and inquisitive servants. He felt weak and his +strength failing; with the last bit of it he wanted to put the box +himself straight into the lady’s hand, and then what became of him did +not seem to matter at all.</p> + +<p>The door opened in response to his modest ring and a young footman +looked out at him with blank astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Please can I see Miss Torrington,” said Jim. “I’ve something for her +which she wants very particular.”</p> + +<p>He had thought this sentence out with care, and it certainly showed +ingenuity in its suggestion of the lady’s desire to see him.</p> + +<p>The door was not slammed in his face as he feared it might be. The +young footman held it, still staring at him in silence. As he said +afterwards in the servants’ hall, “I was that surprised at his cheek +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> +coming to the front door in his condition I couldn’t say nothing.”</p> + +<p>At that moment the butler chanced to cross the hall and seeing the open +door and the intruder on the steps, approached. A tall, portly man the +butler, who would have made about four of Jim. As he came up the frail +one clutched still harder the box against his bony ribs. “Good Lord, if +she should drop upon me, I’m done,” was the thought that dashed through +his brain. Nothing of the kind happened, however.</p> + +<p>“My good man,” said the butler benevolently, “what is it you want?”</p> + +<p>Jim repeated his fine phrase, but stammering a little as his weakness +gained on him.</p> + +<p>“Very good,” replied the butler blandly, “Give me what you have and I +will give it to Miss Torrington.”</p> + +<p>Jim’s heart thumped, and the hall seemed moving round him, but he stuck +to his purpose.</p> + +<p>“Twenty-four miles,” he stammered with blue lips. “Give it ’er myself.”</p> + +<p>The butler looked him over. He was a man of some brains, or perhaps +he would not have been butler to Miss Torrington on a comfortable +salary. He met the clear determined gaze of Jim’s one unclosed eye and +read perhaps something in it that made him sign to Jim to enter and +the footman to close the door. Then he said: “If you wait here I will +enquire if Miss Torrington wishes to see you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span></p> + +<p>Jim stood still as a post just inside the door and erect, though +everything was getting uncertain round him, and the footman lounged +watching him.</p> + +<p>Though a thief by profession and accustomed to be so styled and +considered, a feeling of amusement stirred in Jim that the man should +mount guard over him here.</p> + +<p>“As if I’d steal a thing off ’er,” passed through him, and somehow this +new feeling of pride and self-respect he had been indulging in was so +delightful he thought he would never steal another thing as long as he +lived.</p> + +<p>Jim did not know how long he waited, but it seemed a world of time, +and then a swift, light step came down the stairs and the young +lady herself came across the hall towards him. There she was, slim, +dark-clothed form and golden hair and slender hand.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’ve found my box!” she exclaimed in a sweet, soft voice. “Oh, +good man! Are they alive and all right?”</p> + +<p>Jim stood speechless; the last of his powers seemed deserting him. His +voice died in his throat. With both trembling hands he pushed out the +precious casket into her eager grasp.</p> + +<p>Then all went dark and he fell in a crumpled heap on the whiteness of +the marble flooring.</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * * </div> + +<p>Bill is now in quod doing seven years for a burglary with violence, +but Jim is third gardener at Hailstone Hall, has a sunny room all to +himself, and a whole row of primroses on his window sill.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_VENGEANCE_OF_PASHT">THE VENGEANCE OF PASHT</h2> +</div> + + +<p>In the torrid heat of the Egyptian afternoon the desert lay +outstretched, a silent, shimmering golden sea. Little wavelets of sand +rose from its surface at intervals, curled over and blew away as the +scorching desert wind passed by. Otherwise nothing moved nor stirred +till the form of a camel outlined itself against the blue sky, walking +easily and swiftly and bearing on its back the slight white clothed +figure of a girl. She was young and extremely fair, the mass of curls +pressed up against the shady hat-brim was gold as the sunshine, the +eyes were bright sparkling blue like the sky above, the skin all +softness and bloom. She was humming to herself as she rode—she felt so +happy, so delightfully alone and free. She had slipped away from the +noisy clamoring crowd of tourists with whom she travelled on her little +Cook’s ticket which had cost her £25 and brought her to this ancient +land of old and sacred gods.</p> + +<p>She had escaped from the hateful attentions of one of the men of the +party and now with a map and a guide book she had started out on the +great adventure of finding for herself the obscure and lonely little +temple of the Goddess Pasht.</p> + +<p>From her childhood she had studied Egyptian history and she knew all +about the great Goddess; divine protector of all the feline tribe. Her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> +father had been an Egyptologist of some note and books and pictures of +Egypt had been her playthings from her earliest years but what were +books and pictures to the delights of being here at last and seeing for +herself the rich and glorious temples that have been the wonders of the +world for centuries?</p> + +<p>She rode on leisurely, accommodating her supple body to the long +swinging stride of the camel and the sun slanted slowly to the Western +sky behind her. She was thinking how delightful life would be if there +were more of this loneliness in it; that horde of chattering companions +she was with usually day and night, how she hated it and that one man +who pursued her so relentlessly. That wretched man, how she hated him. +He was positively spoiling the whole of her tour. Wherever she went +she always found that he was there. She never seemed able to escape +him. If their little boat had to cross the Nile to reach Thebes, he +always managed to secure the seat next to hers. If the party were +making an excursion on donkeys, he always rode his up beside hers and +once, through pushing up close beside her on a steep bank, he had +forced her donkey so near the edge that it had almost rolled over +it. It had been so from the very first, this constant pursuit of her +and she could honestly feel she had given him no encouragement. His +personal appearance on the first day she saw him among the crowd of +jolly-faced tourists had repelled her. The long lanky dark hair which +was always falling over his pallid forehead, the sinister dark eyes, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> +the peculiarly evil mouth and above all the large lean sinewy hands had +filled her with a sense of horror and repulsion.</p> + +<p>Even before she had heard what he was, a medical student, and been +shocked by his callous conversation, his horrid talk of his cruel +experiments on cats. Cats! animals that she particularly loved for +their soft, sinuous movements, their beautiful eyes and their deep +silent affections.</p> + +<p>She shuddered as she thought of him and glanced involuntarily behind +her. But here out in the desert there seemed no menace. Only limpid +golden light on golden sand met her eye, infinite silence and peace was +all around.</p> + +<p>She consulted the map; she should be nearing her destination now and +after a few more minutes she descried ahead of her the rising mound of +sand that marked the site of the half buried temple of Pasht. Rather +plain in its architecture and not imposing in size, it is often passed +over by the tourist and the sight-seer as unworthy of particular +notice, and the long camel ride one has to take to find. But now with +its smooth straight walls glowing gold in the magic lights and its dark +portal suggesting mysteries within, its lonely situation out here away +from any other tomb or temple away from every sign of life, half buried +beneath the drifting tide of sand it seemed to the girl most appealing, +far more interesting visited thus in its grandeur of desolation than +the larger ones she had seen thronged with loquacious dragomen and +gaping visitors.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span></p> + +<p>She pulled up the camel and looked around. Everywhere about her amber +glory of soundless space.</p> + +<p>“Khush” she said gently to the camel and the great docile beast went +down on his knees and let her dismount.</p> + +<p>She had to descend three steps and then through the great granite +doorway she entered the temple.</p> + +<p>There were three small horizontal windows, rectangular slits, at the +top of the walls near the stone roof on which the sand had piled and +the whole of the interior was full of a soft grey light. In the very +centre of the small square chamber was the great statue of the Goddess +about three times the girl’s own size. A seated majestic figure in grey +stone, the body that of a woman, bare breasted and with hands resting +on its knees, the head and face that of an enormous cat with calm fixed +eyes looking out towards the desert beyond the open door. So had it sat +gazing in unmoved calm while the centuries rolled by and generations of +men turned into dust which the desert wind swept by the temple door.</p> + +<p>Pasht sat there silent and alone in her neglected temple. Her +worshippers had passed away, the flowers and lights and wreaths of +former days were hers no more, the girls who had danced in her honour +and flung chains of roses round her feet, where were they now with +their dusky slender limbs and dark laughing eyes? Perished and gone but +she in her carven stone sat there still, serene and secure.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p> + +<p>The girl on first entering could see nothing but after a few minutes +when her eyes, accustomed to the soft gloom, took indistinctly the huge +form of the great woman-cat towering over her, a sense of awe enfolded +her and she dropped into a sitting position near its feet, and gazed up +reverently into the curious feline countenance, carved so long ago by +some skilled and loving hand.</p> + +<p>“Goddess, I love you,” she said in a whispering tone after a minute’s +silent musing, “just as much as any of your old, old long ago +worshippers did, and I love all cats all your incarnations. They are +the dearest darlings in the world and so misunderstood. Just because +they have not the exuberant spirits of the dog, man thinks they +can’t feel. But deep down in their dark reserved passionate natures, +they feel intensely and they love. Oh, how they can love when one +understands them! I am glad they were held sacred and worshipped in +Egypt! Perhaps I was one of your temple girls, Goddess, in those old, +far off times!”</p> + +<p>She sat still on the sand, her hands loosely clasped round her knees. +She felt so happy to have discovered the temple—and the statue that +her father had told her of and all by herself, and happy to be able to +sit still and think for which there was generally so little time in +this tour with the band of people always being hurried along from one +place to another.</p> + +<p>This was an interval of calm and rest and she was thoroughly enjoying +it. She felt no fear, no sense of loneliness, under the kind grave +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> +eyes of the stone deity. She felt protected and with some august +companion.</p> + +<p>Suddenly in the soft and profound stillness a sound struck upon her +and thinking the camel had become restless, she rose and turned to the +door. Then drew back with a half uttered exclamation and stood close +against the colossal knees of the goddess with horror stamped on her +face. In the doorway stood the slim erect figure of a young man in a +light grey suit. Not apparently a very horrifying sight but a chill +hatred ran all along the girl’s veins as she looked at him and her hand +grew cold as the stone on which it rested.</p> + +<p>He advanced smiling. “This is a treat darling to find you here all +alone,” he said gaily coming up to her. “What’s this old thing here? +Why I do believe its a beastly cat,” and he stared up impudently into +the stately countenance above them.</p> + +<p>“Oh, hush! please, it’s a statue of the Goddess Pasht.”</p> + +<p>The young man looked back at her laughing, “Pasht, well who’s she and +why’s she got a cat’s head?”</p> + +<p>“She was the patron Goddess of cats,” said the girl.</p> + +<p>“Oh, was she? Well, she won’t like me then, I’ve cut up lots of her +protégés, starved them and drowned them and doubled them up with +tetanus.”</p> + +<p>“Please don’t tell me about it. I don’t want to hear.” The girl’s lips +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> +were white; all her happy smiles and colour had fled.</p> + +<p>“Oh they were only ordinary wretched little street cats anyway,” +rejoined the man lightly.</p> + +<p>“How did you come here?” asked the girl. Her eyes were fixed on the +stone face above them. Was it only her fancy, or that the light was +failing? It seemed to her the countenance had darkened as if with wrath +and the calm gaze grown fierce and grim.</p> + +<p>“On a camel; same as you did. Oh, you didn’t think I was going over to +Thebes did you with the rest of the flock, if you weren’t there? Not +much. I just waited about in the Hotel and after you’d gone I found +out from the porter whom you’d hired the camel from, then I went to +<i>him</i> and found out where you had headed for. Then I followed you +but I had to be precious careful you didn’t turn round and see me. One +can see for such miles in the desert.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you come?” the girl’s voice was strained and low. Oh, how she +hated this man who had made her life a burden ever since the beginning +of the tour.</p> + +<p>The man laughed.</p> + +<p>“What a question! As if you don’t know, you little humbug! Why to make +love to you of course, not to see this old Smash Pash or whatever you +said her name was.”</p> + +<p>“Well you know I don’t want to listen to you and its getting late now. +Let us ride back.” She was still standing by the knees of the statue. +He was between her and the door, she could not move towards it without +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> +approaching him.</p> + +<p>She glanced round; the greyness of the temple was of a darker tint; +outside the glowing patch of light showed the approach of sunset.</p> + +<p>“Not at all. I have no intention of going back yet. You may as well sit +down and be sensible. I’ve come out to ask you again will you marry me?”</p> + +<p>“No, I have told you before I will not.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“Because I don’t love you. I could never love anybody who cut up +animals alive.”</p> + +<p>“We don’t call it that now, you are so old fashioned, we call it +Scientific Research.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the same thing whatever you call it.”</p> + +<p>“Lots of women admire it.”</p> + +<p>“Well marry one of them.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to, I want to marry you.”</p> + +<p>“You can never do that.”</p> + +<p>“We shall see. To-morrow morning you will be begging and praying me to +marry you.”</p> + +<p>The girl went deadly cold all over and the sweat broke out on her +forehead. He had come a little nearer. Through the dark she could see +the evil face, the horribly eager expression.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” she stammered, her throat was dry, her limbs +trembled. Horror and hatred and a nameless fear possessed her. The +temple seemed growing smaller, its walls contracting, pushing him upon +her.</p> + +<p>“I should think you’d know. We’re going to make a night of it here and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> +if you’re alive in the morning—well, we’ll see what you say then.”</p> + +<p>There was a great dead silence. Now that she realized the extremity of +her danger her courage seemed to rise to meet it. She thought rapidly: +Was there any escape, any help anywhere? Was anyone likely to come to +her rescue? Would she be missed, followed?</p> + +<p>“You arranged it all very well,” the man’s voice went on in mocking +tones as if in answer to her thoughts. “You told no one where you were +going. Only the camel man has the least idea where you are and I’ve +tipped him well. He won’t tell anyone <i>in time</i>.”</p> + +<p>He was very near her now and suddenly he threw both arms round her +and drawing her up to him kissed her violently on the mouth. At the +touch of his lips a perfect fury of revolt rose in her and she struck +out wildly at him with her clenched fists. With the strength that the +madness of anger gives she wrenched herself loose from him and fled +behind the statue so that the colossal form of the image was between +her and her tormentor. There she paused trembling and gasping.</p> + +<p>The man was now by the knees of the statue. She saw his dark face and +the black brows contracted into a straight savage line as the light +from one of the slit-like windows above fell on it. He followed her +but terror lent wings to her feet and she fled away before he could +reach her circling round the image. He followed and dodged and circled +also but she was too quick and fleet in her movements for him to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> +circumvent. So for a few moments they played in a deadly game round +the age old Deity. But the girl felt her strength failing. The poisons +of hatred and anger, terror and loathing were pouring into her blood, +enervating her, taking away her powers. Her eyes were darkening, her +limbs giving way.</p> + +<p>In another moment she must faint and fall.</p> + +<p>They were on opposite sides now. Across the lap of the Goddess she +saw the crimson face, the bulging blood-shot eyes of the human beast +waiting to spring on her. The temple was going dark, all was whirling +before her.</p> + +<p>“Save me, Pasht!”</p> + +<p>And as her agonized scream rang through the temple, she pressed her +slender white hands against the arms of the statue.</p> + +<p>Was it the pressure of those soft fingers disturbing the balance +already shaken by the shifting of the sand floor through a thousand +years? Or was the stone heart of the Goddess turned to flesh and blood +as man’s heart is so often turned to stone? Who shall say?</p> + +<p>Before the murderous beast could move back from where he stood beside +her lap the huge idol reeled and fell over on its side with a sullen +thud bearing him to the ground beneath its six tons of solid granite. +The temple shook to its foundation and the whole air was filled with +a fog of blood and sand. One piercing shriek of agony rang through +it. Then there was silence except for the sound of the blood thrown +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> +on the walls trickling down them to the ground. The concussion of the +air in that small space had thrown the already half fainting girl back +against the wall. For a moment she could see nothing, the stinging +sand filling and closing her eyes. Then as the particles settled down +once more to their age old repose her terrified gaze took in the form +of the huge image at her feet, the scarlet wall opposite her, the +semi-obliterated mass of small human form and clothes. The man’s face +was crushed deeply into the sand under the colossal shoulder of the +Goddess but something still moved, chaining her fascinated gaze—two +large sinewy hands scrabbled still convulsively pulling at the sand. +Then after a few more minutes these also grew motionless. Breathless, +terrified, half suffocated and dazed the girl still clung to the wall +hardly realising yet what had happened and if she herself were still +living and uninjured. Then as the sand settled and the air grew clear, +calmness returned to her and she knew she was safe and free.</p> + +<p>With gentle steps she approached the huge fallen form, avoiding the +horrid blue hands that looked still able to grip and grasp and holding +her skirts away from all the contamination oozing from under the stone +and looked down into the face of the statue. The light from the doorway +slanted on to it and seemed to soften it all into smiles and the desert +wind springing up passed through the temple and out at the top slits by +the roof with a loud purring sound. The girl stooped and pressed her +warm red lips on the ancient stone brow in a kiss of gratitude, then +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> +passed out into the sunset and mounting her camel and followed by the +other, rode away over the golden sand and night settled slowly on the +desert in a violet dusk enclosing the ancient temple where the Goddess +Pasht lay purring on her prey. Her starry eyed children were avenged.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="VILLAGE_PASSION">VILLAGE PASSION</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The shapely mass of her body was outlined dark against the rosy gold of +the evening sky, as she sat on the top of the red brick orchard wall, +looking up and down the country road on which it bordered.</p> + +<p>She was named Apricot Marten and the Christian name given her by a +fanciful mother could not have been more suitably bestowed. She was +just like a golden glowing apricot in its very best condition when +it hangs basking in the summer sun. She had a soft, clear skin with +a warm flush in the velvet cheek, great lustrous laughing eyes of a +warm golden brown, and a wealth of bright waving hair in which the +sunrays seemed to have got permanently entangled. Her mouth was bright +crimson and turned up at its smiling corners, and her body was supple +and gracious in its full rounded contours. Altogether she was an +enchanting piece of girlhood just merging into womanhood, and many were +the sleepless nights passed by the young men of Fullingham village in +thinking about her.</p> + +<p>She was not entirely free from the reputation of a flirt, but deep in +her heart her choice was made, and from it she never swerved however +mischievously she might behave.</p> + +<p>It was John Macpherson the Highlander, the lithe, agile, black-haired, +hasty-tempered Scot who worked on the farm which adjoined her father’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> +cottage and orchard. But she gave this away to no one, and many thought +she had her eye on Tony Morrison, whose father owned the little +village shop and general store, and, in absence of all competition, +did a good business. Tony served in the store, and while rather short +and insignificant in physique, made up for this by the extreme care +he bestowed upon his dress and personal appearance. He wore neat and +becoming grey suits and townish-looking hats, and always produced a +pleasing impression of great cleanliness and smartness. Tony’s heart +had been given long ago to Bessie Smith in the next village, a little +quiet mouse of a girl with violet eyes. Apricot was much too flamboyant +a personage to please his quiet taste, but this secret devotion he also +imparted to no one, and as Apricot was considered the belle of his +village, it flattered his masculine vanity to be supposed one of her +accepted admirers. By a quiet and modest smile he generally managed +to encourage the rumours about himself and Apricot while ostensibly +denying them. All of which made the heart of John Macpherson flare up +with consuming anger against him.</p> + +<p>Thus stood matters in Fullingham village on that lovely summer evening +when Apricot sat humming to herself on the top of the orchard wall. +The scene was truly idyllic in its beauty. Fullingham is one of the +prettiest villages in the quietest and most remote part of Devonshire, +and this evening the glory of pink light in the sky was so great it +turned even the white road a rosy colour, and all the hedges were full +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> +of wild roses and the still warm air heavy with balmy scents.</p> + +<p>Apricot thought it beautiful, and looked with longing eyes up and down +the road. She felt she wanted to kiss somebody, to throw her arms +round somebody’s neck, and who so delightful for this as the handsome +Highlander, if he would only come! They had an appointment at this +place and hour. She was there, but where was he? There was no one to +be seen in the road except a small shock-haired boy gnawing an apple. +Then, swinging lightly along, came a figure down the road.</p> + +<p>Apricot put her hand to shade her eyes to see, but it was not John. She +thought at first it was Tony, that slight, neat form in grey with the +smart hat; but no, it was not he. It was a stranger.</p> + +<p>Up went Apricot’s hand to her hair to smoothe back a tress. What would +he think of her? She wondered. Would he look up as he passed?</p> + +<p>The stranger did more than that. When he came up to the orchard he +stopped and looked up.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing up there?” he asked. His voice was gentle and +courteous, and the face he turned up towards her very pleasant to look +at.</p> + +<p>Apricot did not resent his addressing her.</p> + +<p>“What’s that to you?” she called back saucily, showing her small white +teeth in a gay smile; and pulling a great red rose that grew on the +wall close to her hand, she threw it down full in his face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span></p> + +<p>The stranger caught the rose and kissed it, and then stuck it in his +coat.</p> + +<p>“Come down and have a little walk with me. You look lonely up there.”</p> + +<p>“Not so lonely as you look in the road, young man.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m lonely enough! That’s why I want your company.”</p> + +<p>“Will you catch me?” she said laughing and leaning over.</p> + +<p>“Certainly I will,” he answered, holding out his arms. “Come along.”</p> + +<p>She swung her shapely legs and neat feet over the side of the wall +next him, and then let herself slip down it. He caught her fine, +well-developed figure in his arms, and holding her up tight and close +gave her a kiss on her bright red lips.</p> + +<p>She slapped his face, but quite gently, and struggled away from him, +shaking her blue cotton gown straight that had been rather rumpled by +her descend.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll go for a walk,” said the stranger. “Which way?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ll go towards Hawley village. That’s very pretty,” she +answered. “And if you want the train you can get it there. You’re a +town gentleman, aren’t you?” she added shyly.</p> + +<p>Fullingham village is off the railway line and it was not an uncommon +thing for strangers to pass through the village from Riverside where +there was a station to Hawley on the other side where they could +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> +again take the train, having walked through six miles of the prettiest +Devonshire scenery.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’ll do very well. I didn’t know you had a train so near. Yes, +I’m finishing my holiday and going back to town to-night.”</p> + +<p>They were walking slowly up the road now in the gorgeous sunset light. +A moon large and pale as a thin white paper disc rose in the East +before them.</p> + +<p>Apricot had her own ideas in view in going in the Hawley direction and +shipping the stranger off her hands there. She was thoroughly enjoying +the new sensation of walking and talking with a London gentleman, but +she was not <i>quite</i> sure how John Macpherson would view her little +promenade, and she was not <i>too</i> anxious to be met or seen by him. +It was quite true he had not kept their tryst, and in her own mind that +quite excused her for going off with someone else. But then, he and she +did not always agree about these things, and altogether it was best to +take the handsome stranger out of her own village and over to Hawley in +which direction the Fullingham rustics did not often walk.</p> + +<p>Laughing and jesting and walking quite near together the two young +figures passed up the sunlit road. Some little way ahead of them there +was a fork, one road winding up an incline and passing through a larch +plantation on the hill before it dipped down to Hawley station, the +other a far prettier road following the valley and passing through a +lovely wood as it worked round to Riverside.</p> + +<p>Apricot and the stranger walked along with springing steps, taking the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> +Hawley road. It was surely an evening to feel, if ever, the madness +of Summer in one’s veins. He thought he had never seen such a lovely +country girl and she, without swerving in the least from her allegiance +to the fiery Macpherson, thought it was the greatest fun in the world +to be admired by a town gentleman, a real London man, with London +clothes and all.</p> + +<p>“There’ll be none of this when I’m married to John,” she was reflecting +inwardly. “Best have what fun I can now.”</p> + +<p>Heated a little by their walk up hill in the warm Devonshire air, they +entered the feathery larch plantation with a feeling of relief. It was +full of light, shade and music; thrushes and blackbirds, robins and +chaffinches not yet exhausted by their nesting cares were trilling on +every side of them.</p> + +<p>“Let’s sit down here,” he suggested as they came to a mossy bank where +a tiny brooklet tinkled by, and Apricot, flushed and lovely, sat +down willingly and let the stranger’s arm come round her waist. Her +conscience told her it was not quite right, but oh! that wood with its +rosy mystery of softened summer light and the wandering perfumes of +roses and hot resin and the magic of the birds’ voices, all talking of +love, what girl would not be swayed by it and made a little giddy by +the sweet intoxication of it all?</p> + +<p>Meantime, Macpherson had gone down to the store, his work being over +at the farm for that day, to buy himself a new tie wherewith to charm +Apricot at the trysting. He was much put out to find there only one +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> +tie and that green, a colour he thought didn’t suit him. Everyone knows +the kind of village shop it was where everything is sold, but things +are so seldom what one wants. Gloves are there, but only size ten. +Boots are there, but only size four. Pencils are sold out, but you can +have a slate pencil. Bootlaces have not come in, but you can have a +ball of string. Macpherson bought his tie, and as the gawky girl who +assisted Morrison, was wrapping it up in a bit of paper too small for +it, he asked:</p> + +<p>“Where’s Tony?”</p> + +<p>“Gorn sweethearting, I ’spects,” answered the girl with a grin, +“leastways, he went out all dressed up in his new soot and hat.”</p> + +<p>Macpherson grunted, paid and left, went home, donned the tie, and then, +a little late, flustered and rather put out, hurried to the appointed +orchard wall. There was no Apricot—no one to be seen at all up or +down the wide country road except a small boy devouring the core of an +apple. Macpherson waited with glowering eyes. It was all very well for +him to be a bit late. He had a man’s work to do, but girls should be +punctual.</p> + +<p>Several minutes went by, each an hour to the waiting man. Then he +strode across to the boy on the other side.</p> + +<p>“You seen Miss Apricot about here?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The boy looked up stolidly. “I seed her a while ago.”</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span></p> + +<p>“On yon wall,” answered the boy, nodding in that direction.</p> + +<p>“Well, where did she go?”</p> + +<p>“Nowhere, till a gent comed along; then there wur a lot of huggin’ and +kissin’ an’ she went off with he.”</p> + +<p>Macpherson’s face was a study as he listened to this astounding +statement. He stood rooted to the spot, and from his six feet glowered +down on the malicious little imp in the road as if he could kill +him. The boy knew perfectly well that Macpherson was “sweet” on Miss +Apricot, and he thoroughly enjoyed imparting this information. He would +have been afraid to make up such a story, but since he had witnessed it +all and it was perfectly true and this great giant had asked him, he +was going to have the fun of telling him, on the same principle that he +egged on Farmer Smith’s dog to fight another dog and shook the bag when +he was carrying ferrets to make them attack each other.</p> + +<p>He was a little alarmed when Macpherson’s great paw came down heavily +on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“You little rat! What sort of a man was it? Tell me that!”</p> + +<p>“I dunno,” said the boy sullenly, trying to shake himself free, “a kind +of a smart chap in a grey soot and hat.”</p> + +<p>“A grey suit and hat!” The light blazed in Macpherson’s dark eyes. He +shook the boy by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Was it Tony Morrison at the store?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p> + +<p>“I dunno,” wailed the boy frightened now by the awful look of rage in +the man’s face and only anxious to get away. “I never go to the store, +muvver always goes.”</p> + +<p>Another frightful shake that made his teeth rattle.</p> + +<p>“Was it?”</p> + +<p>“I dunno. I never saw ’is face, only ’is back as he was a-kissin’ of +her. It mout be the store man, or it moutn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Little devil!” growled Macpherson, and with a final shake sent the boy +down on his hands and knees in the dust. Then he strode off up the road +at a tremendous pace, his blood on fire, his mind entirely made up.</p> + +<p>It was Tony, of course. He knew that absolutely. He was convinced of +it. The grey suit and hat, the smart appearance—who else in Fullingham +had that? It was Tony’s own particular property and asset. Besides, +had he not just heard at the store that Tony was gone sweethearting? +Of course it was all quite clear. Huggin’ and kissin’ his Apricot! +The thought of her darling velvet cheek that he himself so reverently +touched, her lovely smiling scarlet mouth, came to him and seemed to +add boiling oil to the raging flame within him. He would do for him! +He would kill him! He would break his back! The cur! The reptile! Who +all along had been carrying on with his girl and who was so smug and +so satisfied—always at the store so neat and clean, and always so +civil-spoken and so quiet!</p> + +<p>He had always rather liked Tony. There had been a great friendship +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> +between the men only lately a little spoiled by the slumbering +suspicion in John’s mind that Tony might be “after his girl,” but Tony +had always been good to him personally and he always spoke of Apricot +to John as Miss Marten, which came back bitterly to John now. “I’ll +‘Miss Marten’ him when I catch him,” he said between his teeth.</p> + +<p>A hideous thing is jealousy, blinding its victim, deafening him alike +to the voice of conscience and the voice of reason hounding him on to +the scaffold and the grave.</p> + +<p>John Macpherson, good man, great soul, walked up the road that evening +with red murder in his heart. When he came to the cross-roads he +stopped and hesitated. Which way had they gone?</p> + +<p>He decided they must have taken the road to Riverside. It lay before +him so attractively beautiful all bathed in golden sheen; the road to +Hawley was up hill and in shadow.</p> + +<p>Before one reaches Riverside comes the wood, and as the road passes +into it there is a low stile. On this stile with his back to the road +and all unconscious of the desperate figure of vengeance striding +along it, sat a figure in grey. It was Tony, blissfully happy; full of +light-hearted innocent enjoyment swinging his legs to the tune he was +whistling. He was looking back to Riverside and was counting the kisses +shy little Bessie had given him that day, and thinking how sweet she +had looked when she promised to marry him. Now he was on his way home +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> +to Fullingham and just pausing to rest on the stile and enjoy the sweet +calm and peace of this perfect evening which suited so well his happy +mood.</p> + +<p>Suddenly as John came along the road he caught sight of the grey back +rising above the stile and every drop of blood in John’s body turned +to raging flame. His ears caught the gay whistle. Apricot was nowhere +to be seen, but that was natural. She would be slinking home through +the woods by way of Riverside and back to her father’s cottage, where +she would turn up with the innocent look of the cat who has stolen the +cream. Well, nothing could be better. Apricot out of the way he could +deal all the more swiftly and better with his rival.</p> + +<p>Like a bull at a fence he rushed at the stile, and Tony was knocked off +and down on the ground, pinned under John’s hands at his throat before +he knew who had approached.</p> + +<p>“You weasel! You little devil! I’ll kill you!” John stormed, and +lifting the prostrate man by the neck dashed him down again with all +his force. There was a wide stone flag just under the stile to help +matters in the muddy wintertime, and on this flag Tony’s head came down +with a good bang.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” he gasped, as well as he could with John’s suffocating +grip on his neck. “What’s this for, Mac?”</p> + +<p>“Huggin’ and kissin’!” ground out John between his teeth. “I’ll teach +you to come after my girl!”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t! I haven’t!” cried Tony. “Let up, Mac, let up! You’re mad.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> + +<p>“If I’m mad you’re dead. I’m going to kill you, you little beast!” +Bang! “Where were you this afternoon?” Bang! “Answer me that.” Bang!</p> + +<p>Tony’s lips were going white. His thoughts were scattered by the blows +on his head. He managed to gasp out: “Riverside! I’ve been to Bessie—I +haven’t seen your girl.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a good liar,” scoffed John. “You were seen huggin’ my girl and +I’ll see you never do again. Now go on with more of your lies.” Bang! +Bang!</p> + +<p>But Tony’s lying or speaking at all had come to an end. His face went +grey; his jaw dropped; his body fell limp in the fierce hands which +held him.</p> + +<p>John let him slide down and struggled to his feet. Instantly his rage +fell from him. He was face to face with the awful fact—he had killed a +man.</p> + +<p>Sane now, calm, his anger utterly spent and gone from him, John stood +panting there, looking about him. He was quite alone in the golden +evening; everything was exquisitely calm about him, a thrush near by +was pouring out his song, and the figure, a few moments before sitting +whistling on the stile, was now lying limp and motionless at his feet. +Those few moments of blind, dark rage had turned one man into a corpse, +the other into a murderer.</p> + +<p>Murder! It was hanging for that.</p> + +<p>A wild longing to undo what he had done possessed him. He went down on +his knees.</p> + +<p>“Tony!” he called. “What’s the matter with you? Tony, wake up!” But +the man lay still and grey before him. He undid his coat and felt his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> +heart; there was no movement.</p> + +<p>He passed his trembling arm under his head and raised him and put his +own face down close to see if any breath touched his cheek; but there +was none. Limp, nerveless, the body lay across the flagstone, seeming +to ask him, “What will you do with me now?” And John, wrapped in that +awful horror, that awful responsibility of his deed, rose from his +knees and stood shuddering by the stile.</p> + +<p>Then terror came and seized him. He must conceal his act. He must hide +the body. It must never be known he had murdered Tony. He might never +be discovered. If Tony’s body were found later, in the wood, what would +tie this deed to him, Macpherson? Tony might have been murdered by a +tramp in the wood.</p> + +<p>Shivering as if with mortal cold, John stooped over the body and +dragged it by the shoulders out of the path, and into the little wood. +Parting the flowering bushes by the side of the track, he pushed into +the thick undergrowth and there left the motionless form under some +wild azaleas.</p> + +<p>Then with, the cold, clammy fingers of his crime clinging to him, +unnerved and shaken, with his heart in a black terror, he crept out, a +criminal, from the shade of the trees and took the sunfilled road again.</p> + +<p>He looked all round the stile, but there was no trace of the crime +committed there. He brushed the white dust of the path from his own +clothes. Then he stood and listened.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span></p> + +<p>Not a sound to mar the lovely serenity of the golden air. Even the +thrush had finished his beautiful song and all was silence.</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * * </div> + +<p>John Macpherson, the same in outward appearance, but within a +miserable, broken and craven man, entered the village pot-house as the +sunset faded and the moon grew brighter, and called for a glass of beer.</p> + +<p>When he got it he took it to one of the side benches, where he sat down +away from the rest of the company and swallowed it in silence.</p> + +<p>What an awful sense of guilt clung round him; but the man deserved it, +he kept telling himself. Why did he come sneaking round after another +man’s girl? If it ever came out that he had killed him, everyone would +allow that he had been sorely tried. As he sat there, black and moody, +with eyes fixed on the sawdust-covered floor, scraps of conversation +floated over to him from the bar where the men had gathered. He heard +nothing at first; then a sentence pierced his preoccupied brain.</p> + +<p>“Smart young fellow, wasn’t he? Did you see him, Bill?”</p> + +<p>And then Bill’s answer struck dully on his ears:</p> + +<p>“I just seed him go by. I was at the window there, an’ I looks up. +‘Why, there’s Tony, ses I’ bein’ as ’ow he was all togged up in grey. +And I calls out, ‘Tony!’ ’cos I wanted them bootlaces he promised me. +And the feller turns round and I couldn’t help larfin’, for it wasn’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> +Tony at all, but this other chap.”</p> + +<p>There was a general laugh at Bill’s expense.</p> + +<p>“I could have told you Tony was off for the day. I met him going to +Riverside just after dinner-time.”</p> + +<p>“An’ what was this young feller doin’ down here, this London chap, I +mean?” came another question.</p> + +<p>“Oh, just walking through Fullingham, as they do, you know, to see the +country. He went up by Marten’s orchard last thing I see of him, going +to Hawley, for sure.”</p> + +<p>The talk drifted on then; but John Macpherson, seated near the open +door whence the delicious balmy air, heavy with the scent of new-mown +hay, came in and mixed with the beer and baccy of the bar, grew cold +with horror as he sat and heard. An icy conviction gripped him to his +inner being strangling him.</p> + +<p><i>He had killed the wrong man!</i></p> + +<p>He knew it. He felt sure of it. Tony’s gasping words came back to him +backed up now so unexpectedly by this man at the bar. Tony had been +to Riverside, he had “gorn sweethearting” but to his own legitimate +property, his own girl. It was the other man in grey who—oh, the +horror of it! He’d go mad if he sat there another minute. He got +onto his feet and was just about to cross the threshold when another +phrase from the little knot of men arrested him. They had got onto a +prize-fight now. They were discussing it, as one of the men had seen +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> +it in a neighboring town.</p> + +<p>“And there he lay, and nothin’ they could do seemed to bring him round. +I thought he was dead, sure. Then another bloke comes along, and +whether he tips brandy down ’is throat or what he does, I don’t know; +but up springs my fine fellow as gay as you please, and they sets to +again.”</p> + +<p>A sudden ray of hope seemed to split the darkness in John’s mind. +Suppose—suppose Tony was not quite dead? Oh! the wonderful joy of the +thought. Suppose, like that other man, he could come round! Oh, if such +a thing might happen now and let him out of this cold cell of terror +he seemed shut up in, he swore within himself he would never lift hand +against man, woman or child again!</p> + +<p>He had his whiskey-flask in his pocket. Full of a new determination he +turned and walked to the bar.</p> + +<p>“Six-penn’orth?” asked the barman, as John handed him the flask.</p> + +<p>“Fill it right up, man,” said John briefly. And when this was done and +paid for, he turned and went out without a word.</p> + +<p>The barman shook his head. “Macpherson looks bad to-night,” he remarked.</p> + +<p>“Bin drinkin’ perhaps; or p’raps that girl’s leading him a dog’s life. +She’s a termagant.”</p> + +<p>Outside John sped up the road, new hope, dim, faint uncertain, but +still hope glimmering in his heart. The full moon was up in a rich +purple sky, and the night was soft and full of beauty. But John could +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> +see nothing. He felt the hangman’s cord about his neck, and for the +wrong man—the wrong man!</p> + +<p>All seemed quite still, calm as he had left it when he reached the +wood. The silvery light filtered gently through the leaves and fell on +his little path, showing him the way.</p> + +<p>He stepped aside to the clump of azaleas and pushed them back. There +lay the still body, just as he had left it. It had not stirred.</p> + +<p>With a thumping heart and a prayer on his lips John knelt beside it, +and raising the head pushed the neck of the open flask between the +pallid lips.</p> + +<p>There was no movement, but some seemed to go down the throat, but he +could not be sure. Then he got desperate, and getting his handkerchief +just soaked it in the spirit and rubbed it violently all over the man’s +face and eyes.</p> + +<p>“Tony man, wake up, I say!” he muttered, scrubbing his forehead with +the fiery spirit.</p> + +<p>At last, oh, God! that was a sigh! He was breathing!</p> + +<p>John’s hand trembled so that he nearly spilt the rest of the flask.</p> + +<p>Tony opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s this?” he uttered faintly. “Where am I?”</p> + +<p>“Here, drink some more,” said John feverishly, tipping the flask up and +sending a fresh stream down Tony’s throat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p> + +<p>He never touched spirits and it burnt him like fire.</p> + +<p>He sat up, John supporting him, and looked round. “Is that you, Mac?” +he said. “Oh, I remember. You nearly bashed me to death under the +stile. What’s it all about, Mac?” His voice was rather weakly; his eyes +wandered over John’s anxious face and then up to the tracery of boughs +over them.</p> + +<p>“It was all a mistake, Tony, and I am more sorry than I can say. But +you’re not hurt much, are you?”</p> + +<p>Tony was sitting up now. His face looked very white. His hat, carefully +picked up by Macpherson and put beside him under the azaleas, was there +still. His forehead looked damp, and the whiskey-soaked locks of hair +hung loose over it. He leaned his cheek on his hand as he answered:</p> + +<p>“I’ll have you up before the beak for this,” he said calmly. Tony was +mostly calm.</p> + +<p>“You won’t?” exclaimed John anxiously.</p> + +<p>“It’s six months’ hard for ’sault and battery, and it’s two years quod +for manslaughter,” remarked Tony.</p> + +<p>John felt a cold sweat break out on him.</p> + +<p>“But I’ve said it was a mistake,” he urged. “I thought it was you—” +Then he began to stammer. After all, Apricot was his girl and he was +not going to give her away.</p> + +<p>“Well, why didn’t you find out before you came and knocked me about?” +asked Tony in an aggrieved voice. “Spoiled my hat, too.” And he took it +out from the azaleas and smoothed its battered brim in his hands.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span></p> + +<p>“Look here, Tony,” said John desperately, “you must overlook this. Not +a word must come out. Say how I can make up to you and I’ll do it.”</p> + +<p>“There’s that fifty pounds you’ve saved up,” remarked Tony mildly, +still stroking his hat.</p> + +<p>John fell back flabbergasted. Fifty pounds! The savings of his whole +life! The sacred sum put by so that when it grew to a hundred he could +set up house with Apricot!</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” he asked with trembling lips.</p> + +<p>“It won’t be nice doin’ hard for six months; and it’s two years if they +bring it in manslaughter.”</p> + +<p>“But I didn’t kill you, man! They can’t call it that!”</p> + +<p>“You meant to, though; and you nearly did me in. Oh, my head! it do +feel bad!” And Tony leant against a bush beside him and closed his eyes.</p> + +<p>John seized his flask and made him take another gulp.</p> + +<p>“You better take me home,” he said weakly. “I’d like to die in the old +house.”</p> + +<p>John was desperate.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Tony, if you don’t die and don’t say a word you shall have +the fifty, I promise you.”</p> + +<p>Tony straightened himself a little.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do my best, Mac,” he said feebly. “How soon can I have the money? +Soon as I’ve got it I’ll say I had a fit; then if I dies you’re safe, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> +anyway; and I’ll leave Bessie the fifty.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a cool one,” growled out John. “Fifty pounds is a lot of money, +Tony.”</p> + +<p>“Well, don’t pay it, don’t pay it, Mac. Maybe you’ll find it all right +in quod. Two years ain’t long, you know.”</p> + +<p>Cold shivers went down John’s spine. Prison for one of the Highland +Macphersons! And Apricot alone and unprotected for two years! She’d +never wait for him; nor would old Marten ever let him have his daughter +then. He knew Tony had some knowledge of the law. His grandfather had +been a solicitor in a small way, and on this account many were the +knotty points referred to Tony by the villagers. But he hated like +anything to lose his cherished fifty, and made another effort.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he said, “I don’t see what’s to prevent my denying the +whole thing. It’s your word against mine.”</p> + +<p>Tony shook his head solemnly. “I’d have the truth on my side, and the +truth’s a fierce thing to be up against.”</p> + +<p>John considered. He felt that Tony was right. He could never stand up +and call God to witness that he had not laid a finger on Tony. He felt +he’d be struck dead or blind if he did.</p> + +<p>“An’ a man’s dying oath is always took in evidence,” added Tony in a +mournful tone.</p> + +<p>“How can it be a dyin’ oath if you don’t die?”</p> + +<p>“If I <i>think</i> it’s my dyin’ oath it’s the same thing.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span></p> + +<p>“’Spose it all comes out, anyway?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t,” said Tony, sitting up and speaking with more vigour. “I’f I +gets your fifty I’m mum unless I feels like dyin’. If it’s that way, +I’ll say I have had a fit; and if I say it’s a fit, a fit it is.”</p> + +<p>John gave in. “All right,” he said with a long sigh. “I’ll get you the +money to-night. Now let’s get back.”</p> + +<p>He assisted Tony to his feet and put his battered hat on his head.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it do ache!” groaned Tony.</p> + +<p>“That’s all the whiskey you’ve drunk,” returned John unsympathetically.</p> + +<p>“Maybe it is, and maybe it’s the bashing it’s had,” returned Tony. And +after that, in silence, the two men emerged from the wood onto the +moonlit road.</p> + +<p>John walked along in black gloom, pondering alternately on his lost +fifty and on Apricot.</p> + +<p>He wondered if she had walked as far as Hawley with the stranger; if +she had got back home by now; if there was the smallest chance of his +seeing her to-night. He thirsted for the touch of her red lips to +console him for all he had suffered in emotion that day.</p> + +<p>Oddly enough he did not feel angry with her. It is a curious point of +ethics with the lower classes that what is done with a gentleman does +not count. There is not considered to be anything serious about it; +it’s only “a bit of a lark”; and while the thought of Tony supplanting +him had filled him with red fury against him, he had nothing at all +against the gentleman from town who had stolen a kiss from his girl in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> +passing through the village. In fact, far away in the recesses of his +heart there burnt a spark of pride that Apricot’s beauty could not be +resisted by anyone.</p> + +<p>The two men reached the village with hardly a word exchanged, Tony +occasionally stopping to lean on his companion’s arm.</p> + +<p>John left him at the store and went dolefully enough to fetch the price +of his folly. He brought over the small tin box in which he had saved +it and added to it through so many years, and put it into the other’s +hands in the back bedroom behind the shop. He could not bear to see it +counted out by the smiling Tony, but with a hoarse mutter of: “It’s all +there. Mind you keep your word, durn you!” he hurried away.</p> + +<p>The night was exquisitely lovely, full of sweet scents, and all the +whispers of Summer in the air. He walked past Marten’s orchard and +looked longingly up to the wall where the trees hung their branches +heavy with fruit over the top.</p> + +<p>But there was no one to be seen, and finally he walked away +disconsolately back to the farm.</p> + +<p>All the next day he longed to see Apricot; but it was not till the +evening when all the village was dipped in soft violet shadows that he +at last met her, just as she was coming out of the store. She looked so +lovely his heart rose in a great bound, and he threw his arm around her +and pressed his lips into the side of her creamy neck.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></p> + +<p>“What you been to the store for?” he asked jealously.</p> + +<p>“Only for a bit of ribbon; but I stopped to talk to Tony. Oh, John! +Think! He’s going to marry Bessie Smith in a month, and he’s got fifty +pounds to start housekeeping! Some folks do save wonderful, don’t they?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and some has things given ’em,” said John savagely. “But we’ll +be getting married, too. What would you say if I put the banns up +to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>Apricot lifted two soft arms and put them about his neck. They were +sheltered by an old oak that grew near the store, and there was no one +to see. Her upturned face and glowing eyes looked very fair and sweet +in the dusk.</p> + +<p>She loved her John and meant to marry him, and no one else in this +world, but walks and talks like yesterday’s with the stranger were very +great fun and she was afraid they might be few and far when she was +Mrs. Macpherson. Her scarlet mouth closed on John’s as she murmured +back:</p> + +<p>“I think I’d say, John dear, don’t be so hasty!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="SUPPING_WITH_THE_DEVIL">SUPPING WITH THE DEVIL</h2> + +<p class="nindc space-above2">CHAPTER 1</p> +</div> + + +<p>“Here, Jenkins, take this animal!” And the body of the dog from which +one foreleg had been cut away was thrown into the arms of the new +laboratory attendant.</p> + +<p>The dog was screaming wildly and some of its blood splashed upon +Jenkin’s white smock frock and some into his no less white face. The +great scientist Sir Charles Smith-Brown Bart. Dsc. F.R.C.S. etc., etc., +was at work in his laboratory and his new attendant was assisting him.</p> + +<p>It was Sunday morning and the Great Man was rather afraid he might be +made late for church by the bungling slowness of his subordinate.</p> + +<p>“Throw him into the trough, man, don’t stand there staring and clamp +down his paws so that he can’t move, the three he’s got left anyway,” +he added with a little chuckle. Sir Charles was always cheerful and +pleasant at his work. Jenkins turned, lowered the dog into the trough +on his back and taking each leg fastened it into the iron clamp +provided on each side. The dog was screaming in agony and Jenkins’ +fingers trembled as he did the clamps and turned his head away that +he might not see the beseeching terror in the animal’s eyes. It did +not seem right somehow. He had fed the little spaniel last night and +thought what a jolly little beast it was, frisking round him, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> +caressing him with its soft nose and tongue. This Sunday morning’s work +did not seem right to him, but then he was a new hand, only having been +engaged last night and having had his duties described to him as “the +care of animals.”</p> + +<p>“Now then have you got him fixed?” asked the great man, coming up +behind him, with a keen looking knife in his hand. With this he pointed +to the dog’s head.</p> + +<p>“Bind his jaws and clamp the head, that’s right. Now my friend—” the +great man leant over the trough in which the dog lay rigid, helpless, +extended on its back, its legs clamped to the sides of the trough, wide +apart. Jenkins turned away and stared stolidly at the piece of bright +blue sky that appeared above the frosted panes of the lower part of the +window.</p> + +<p>The dog unable to scream with its bound jaws could still moan and a +groaning moan of direct agony came to Jenkins’ ears as the great man +bent over the trough.</p> + +<p>When he looked round he saw there was a great gash all down the chest +and stomach, laying bare the inside, and in the open cavity the +scientist was fumbling with both hands.</p> + +<p>“There now that’ll do for the present,” he said cheerily as he withdrew +them, covered with blood, and wiped them briskly on a towel, “I shall +have to be off to church now or I shall be late.”</p> + +<p>“And what about the dog, Sir?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll leave him like that. I always do. Let ’em cool off a bit you +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> +know,” again the pleasant laugh. “Then I’ll have at him again after +lunch.”</p> + +<p>He was taking off his white smock in which he worked and revealed +himself well dressed underneath. He walked to the wash handstand with +its fine brass taps and washed his hands carefully. Then he went into +the hall outside where his frock-coat and tall hat were hanging. +Jenkins followed him eyeing him uneasily.</p> + +<p>“Of course, Sir,” he began rather hesitatingly, “I’m new to this kind +of work and p’raps I don’t understand it, but isn’t it a bit cruel?”</p> + +<p>The great man had slipped on his fine well made coat over his large +comfortable self and was just settling above his eyebrows his very +polished new silk hat. He looked back pleasantly at the nervous, +puckered face of his subordinate.</p> + +<p>“My dear Jenkins you decidedly are new to it, very: but I trust you +will improve in time.” He took off his pince-nez and held them lightly +in one hand, as he was wont to do when addressing a class. “But I +don’t like these signs of squeamishness. Now I’ll just ask you a few +questions. You don’t know anything about Scientific Research do you?”</p> + +<p>“No, Sir,” returned Jenkins humbly.</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” pursued his employer genially, “you must remember +Scientific Research is a very noble work and that’s what I am doing +here, a very noble work,” he repeated, “read the daily papers, they are +always saying so.” Here he waved his pince-nez airily and smiled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span></p> + +<p>Jenkins was not an adept at analysing sarcasm but as he looked at the +smiling doctor and heard his pleasant tones, he had a vague idea that +the big man was “making game of him.”</p> + +<p>“Then another thing is its all for the benefit of humanity. Now +remember that, Jenkins, because it’s a useful phrase, the benefit of +humanity. I am working for the benefit of humanity. You must get that +well in your head. All you saw this morning, all you will see here +while you are with me is all for the benefit of humanity, see?”</p> + +<p>Jenkins feeling himself confused and baffled by the smiling eyes and +suave tones, tried to keep hold of his point.</p> + +<p>“Still it is cruel, isn’t it, Sir?” he mumbled.</p> + +<p>“Cruel?” repeated the Doctor with a shade of impatience. “Certainly +<i>not</i>. Supposing it were cruel what an uproar there would be! +You know what a lot of churches there are, all full of God-fearing +clergymen, good holy men. Would they allow it if it were cruel? Of +course not. They would denounce it in their sermons but they never say +a word against it. They uphold it. To-day for instance all the London +churches are full of these good men talking themselves hoarse, telling +us all what we must not do, but you won’t find one saying we must not +pursue our researches.”</p> + +<p>“P’raps they don’t know what you are a doin’ of,” blurted out Jenkins +and then paused alarmed at what his employer would think of his +boldness, but Sir Charles only laughed gently.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, they do,” he said. “We tell them often enough in our books +and our medical papers. But they see the aim, my dear Jenkins, unlike +you I am afraid. They see how noble, how important our work is. They +see how important, how immensely valuable, how necessary it is, in +fact, to humanity, to know that monkeys can have measles!” he broke off +laughing and Jenkins felt again the big man was making fun of him. Sir +Charles did not seem to mind now being late for church. He was amused +at the poor simple ignorant fellow before him and he liked the feeling +that he could confuse him with his big words and twist him round his +finger.</p> + +<p>Jenkins stood blinking for a moment in silence. The little spaniel’s +agonised moaning came from the room behind him and filled his ears +making a curious undertone to the light banter of the man before +him. Sir Charles was a great believer in propaganda and never let go +an opportunity of sowing the good seed. He was a little afraid that +sooner or later an infuriated populace might turn against him and his +colleagues and put a stop to those practices for which now they so +meekly and conveniently paid: so seeing Jenkins still appeared somewhat +obdurate he continued more seriously.</p> + +<p>“Just think a minute. There’s the whole country! England! You love +England, don’t you, Jenkins? Fought for it, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir, I do,” replied Jenkins fervently. His whole face lighted up.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, now England’s in the forefront of all humanitarian projects. +Won’t have bull fights, stopped cock fights, sends men to prison for +throwing a cat out of a window, would <i>England</i> allow this work of +ours to go on, if it were cruel? No she would stop it. Would she tax +her people to give us little gifts of 500,000 pounds for Research if it +were cruel? Certainly not. Are you a taxpayer, Jenkins?”</p> + +<p>“I must be, Sir. We’re all taxed.”</p> + +<p>“Just so. Then here in the laboratory you’ll have the satisfaction +of seeing how your money is spent for you. Money, Jenkins, it takes +money, the noble work. Sixty thousand animals more or less go through +the laboratories every year in England. Expensive ones too, some of +them: it takes money, <i>your</i> money, see?” Here the doctor gave his +victim a playful little dig in the side. “Now I really must run off. +Don’t you bother your head about these things. Just remember what I say +that England’s a splendidly humane country and couldn’t allow anything +brutal to be done and don’t forget too how awfully important it is to +know that monkeys have measles!”</p> + +<p>Before his confused listener could make any remark the doctor had +walked down the passage, passed through the door and banged it behind +him.</p> + +<p>Sir Charles walked down the road and across the straggling bit of +waste ground that surrounded his laboratory, with a pleased expression +on his face. One of his favorite experiments was to batter a dog to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> +death slowly with repeated blows, making notes during the operation, +of the time necessary to produce insensibility and the further time to +produce actual extinction. It was always an interesting experiment to +his highly scientific mind and he felt in some degree as if he had been +practicing in the same way on Jenkins’ mind. He thought with a smile it +would not take long in his laboratory to batter to death all Jenkins’ +funny little ideas about cruelty.</p> + +<p>Jenkins, left standing in the hall, remained there as if transfixed. +He felt as if the whole thing must be some horrible nightmare and that +he would wake up in a minute in his country cottage with the sound of +clucking hens outside, instead of that awful moaning from the room +behind him.</p> + +<p>What sort of hell was this that he had dropped into?</p> + +<p>You see Jenkins lacked a scientific education which enables a man +to see that black is really white and so on. Jenkins was only just +an average ordinary man so he must be excused if Sir Charles’ most +beautifully kept and perfectly appointed laboratory with all the latest +scientific appliances for giving monkeys measles and kindred noble +work, appeared to him a hell.</p> + +<p>How had he got into it?</p> + +<p>Seeing by chance that scrap of paper and the advertisement that a man +was wanted to take charge of animals, he had applied for the place, +because he was fond of animals, and got it.</p> + +<p>He had arrived last night and been shown his quarters. He had also +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> +been shown a room with four healthy happy dogs in it in kennels round +the walls. He had been told to feed them and keep them clean which work +he had joyfully accepted. The dogs had jumped round him in delight +recognizing a friend and he had spent most of his evening with them, +cleaning out the kennels which seemed to be old ones that had been +used for many occupants before these four had been put into them. His +work done he had passed through a passage with closed doors on all +sides of him and up the long flight of stairs at the end of it, to his +own two rooms, on an upper floor. These seemed cosy enough and he had +slept well. In the early morning he had been roused by the unearthly +screaming of a dog and fearing some accident had happened to one of his +charges, he bolted down to the room where he had left them overnight.</p> + +<p>Finding only three scared looking animals there, he had followed the +terrible scream down the passage, opened the door that faced him +and come straight in on the scene of one of the doctor’s scientific +operations. Jenkins being unscientific failed to see any trace of +beauty and nobleness in the work before him. He only saw a perspiring +man in a blood stained smock holding a dog who was shrieking like a +human person in the extreme of pain and terror. He understood nothing, +he vaguely thought there must be some accident and his help was needed.</p> + +<p>He rushed forward. “Oh, Sir—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span></p> + +<p>The scientist looked up. His face was working, his eye glaring.</p> + +<p>“Damn you, you fool, what do you come here for when I’m at work? Get +out. Get out!” he repeated as Jenkins did not stir. “And never come +here unless I ring for you.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins turned on shaking legs and got out of the room somehow, +shutting the door tightly behind him. Then he walked down the passage +to the room where the live dogs were, entered and shut that door too +and stood with his back against it facing his charges. Yesterday they +had jumped up to him. Now they stood still, looking at him askance. +Their ears pricked listening to those frightful screams. Then he went +into the middle of the room and sat down on a wooden chair and buried +his face in his hands with a groan. He couldn’t yet make much head or +tail of it all but one thing was certain. The man in the other room was +cutting up a dog alive. A dog who had been well and happy last night. +It had been taken from among these out of this room and by inference +these others were awaiting the same fate. And they knew it: he +stretched out his hands to them and after a time they came up to him; +not as last night capering and joyous, but cowering and whimpering, +sidling up to him pleading for a protection they felt by instinct he +could not give. He had put his arms round them and so they sat grouped +together the man and the terrified dogs listening to those horrible +cries. He did not know how long he sat there but after a time a church +bell clanged out a few harsh strokes and after that the doctor’s bell +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> +had sounded summoning him to his duties. Now the great man had departed +and he was left in the hallway to think over his first lesson in +applied Science.</p> + +<p>Jenkins was not an educated man, but he had a good clear mind capable +of adjusting itself to new situations. He was, besides, what we all +understand by a good man. He had those simple sincere rules of conduct +that make the useful citizen. He had his own very definite ideas of +right and wrong and lived up to them. He thought it was right to pay +your way, to help your neighbour whenever possible, to work hard and +mind your own business. He thought it wrong to lie, steal or murder, to +cheat or injure another in any way, or to abuse the helpless and the +weak. That was his simple code and it had served him very well the 38 +years of his hard-working life. He saw now chance had flung him into a +place where what seemed to him scandalous infamies were carried on and +his first impulse was to flee from it, as one would from any plague +spot: make a clean bolt of it and forget that such a place existed. But +he checked the impulse as cowardly. No, here he was suddenly up against +something he did not in the least understand. It was his duty to try +to master it and see what it all meant. He perceived very clearly that +however gross the evil existing here it was one legally protected and +upheld. He remembered he had once called in a policeman to stop a man +beating a dog: nothing of that sort would avail here, that was evident. +The doctor was quite confident and easy in his mind apparently and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> +while the exterior of the place looked squalid and desolate situated in +its ragged waste land, the interior was fitted up with every comfort +and even luxury. Electric lights and lamps and telephones were in +every room he had seen. Beyond the outlying position, there seemed no +special secrecy or concealment about the place: No: somehow or other, +he could not think how, but <i>somehow</i> this man was <i>allowed</i> +to do what he was doing. Allowed as he had said, by the country, by the +laws, by the church, by his fellows, to do these atrocities. His blood +boiled within him. Again came the temptation to bolt but the thought +of the animals held him. His fighting spirit was up but he could do +nothing until he knew more about what sort of a hell he was in. He +must explore. He walked down the softly carpeted hallway away from the +door, towards the staircase end and opening the first door he came to +at the side entered the apartment. It was long and narrow. No carpet +here: on the floor only bare tessellated black and white tiles. There +were windows high up in the walls: below these ranged against each +side of the room were iron cages. The light fell coldly from above and +there was a faint foul odour in the air that belied the appearance of +aggressive brightness and cleanliness of the whole place. There was a +row of iron cages on each side all down the long room and from these +rose a continuous low moaning sound which seemed to chill his blood. He +looked at the cages: each one was occupied by a mutilated or diseased +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> +animal: most of them turning, swaying and moaning in direst agony in +their cramped quarters: others crouching motionless with staring eyes, +frozen images of despair. Jenkins turned to the first cage on his +right. It contained a retriever blinded in both eyes from the sockets +of which oozed blood and matter. He was sitting on his haunches on the +bare iron floor of his cage in which he could just turn round, that was +all: the bars at the top almost touched his head.</p> + +<p>Jenkins stopped and spoke gently to him. The dog raised his ears a +little at the unaccustomed sound and threw up his great gentle glossy +head with the most piteous long drawn howl that Jenkins had ever heard. +Its accent of unutterable woe was such that no human voice could +achieve. It said as plainly as words, “Oh, let me out of my prison +house, let me die and escape.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins eyes filled. He spoke again and put his hand through the bars +and stroked the dog’s shoulder and the sightless face turned towards +his hand and the dog’s hot nose pushed into it with another long drawn +pleading howl.</p> + +<p>Jenkin’s looked at the little white enamelled tablet beneath the cage +and read:</p> + +<p>“March 1st—Eyes removed.” The date was a fortnight back! With a +sickening feeling half benumbing him, Jenkins passed to the next cage. +Here was a ghastly creature that once had been a dog, staring with +glaring eyes through the bars. It took no notice. It’s agony appeared +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> +to be so appalling that it was mute and rigid with it.</p> + +<p>Jenkins stooped and read:</p> + +<p>“Tumour (artificial) on brain. Experiment commenced February 15.” The +next cage held a small spaniel puppy with a hugely bloated body that +was twisting and writhing in every conceivable position. It’s tongue +was hanging out, foam was pouring from its mouth, its eyes bulging from +its head, it gave short scream of agony at intervals and threw itself +against the bars of its cage.</p> + +<p>Jenkins felt it was not mad. Out of the large protruding brown eyes +looked not insanity: only terror and wonder at its own awful suffering.</p> + +<p>Jenkins read on the cage:</p> + +<p>“Virus introduced into stomach.” There was no date.</p> + +<p>In the next cage the occupant lay at the point of death. It was a small +dog: the floor of its cage was one pool of blood. Where one of its ears +should have been gaped a huge hole from which blood was still running. +Its head had been apparently bandaged. Its paws evidently tied together +but in its madness of pain it had torn away its bonds. Now it lay still +on its side. Its mouth open gasping, its eyes staring, too weak to move +or cry. <i>Dying at last.</i></p> + +<p>Jenkins read:</p> + +<p>“Ear removed. New ear grafted. February 1st.”</p> + +<p>A month and a half it had been there!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span></p> + +<p>Jenkins crept on down the middle path between the row: feeling weak +and cold as he went. Each cage seemed to him more horrible than the +last. Of some the contents are indescribable. Beneath some ran the +legend—“Starving Experiments.” And in these the dogs lay rough-haired, +motionless, their bones almost through their skin, their eyes glazed +and the dates ranged from January.</p> + +<p>After the dog cages came cats, cats and kittens in all stages of +mutilation with their small red tongues showing in their gasping mouths +that let out faint little cries for mercy. After these, monkeys and +here underneath Jenkins read:</p> + +<p>Measles induced at various early dates.</p> + +<p>He paused here looking at the suffering creatures, shivering and +crouching on the bare zinc floors of their cells and his face grew +strangely dark as he recalled the scientist’s smiling words: “It’s so +beneficial to humanity to know that monkeys can have measles!”</p> + +<p>His feet crept on again. He felt he could hardly move them but he +determined to see it all. Other monkeys had suffered such frightful +injuries he could hardly recognize what they were. Their wizened +anguished little faces were pressed against the bars. They clung there +whining and chattering. Some without eyes, some without ears, some +with huge lumps in their throats that they continually pulled at with +trembling paws. Then the cages ended. He had come to the end of the row +and he saw in front of him a round zinc cylinder-shaped receptacle, +just like in appearance the ash barrels seen in back yards. He +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> +noticed, however, this had perforated holes in the lid. He lifted this +off and down at the bottom of the barrel lay a collie dog.</p> + +<p>He called to it and it lifted its head apathetically and gazed up with +dull eyes. It was very, very emaciated: just its coat seemed covering +its skeleton. Jenkins put down both his arms into the barrel and very +gently lifted the dog out bodily and set it on the ground. It lay just +where he set it, crumpled up. Then he raised it and spoke to it. The +dog apparently tried to respond and moved but as it got on its feet it +turned and turned and turned in an endless awful circle. It could not +do otherwise. Its head bent down at a queer angle, its legs quivering, +its tail and ears hanging, its eyes lifeless, its bones sticking in +places through its rough hair, it turned and turned on the same small +spot of ground till it sank exhausted.</p> + +<p>Jenkins read:</p> + +<p>“Portion of brain removed. Interesting circular movement induced.” And +the date was <i>two years before the present time</i>.</p> + +<p>Jenkins straightened himself, the distorted creature crouching, silent +at his feet.</p> + +<p>“And this is <i>England</i>!” he said half aloud.</p> + +<p>Impossible to cure, to help, to alleviate any of this suffering. +Impossible to bestow the last boon of death on these sad helpless +beings. For if he freed any of these, new ones would be put in their +place.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span></p> + +<p>With his heart heaving, and beating in a tumult of fury, he bent and +very tenderly lifted the skeleton collie in his arms, held it for a +moment against him and spoke to it gently. Then lowered it back into +its awful prison house and replaced the lid.</p> + +<p>Then shivering as if with mortal cold he dragged himself on a few paces +to the end of the room where there was a small gas fire burning and an +arm chair drawn up by it. He sank into this and put his hands to the +fire. This was the doctor’s end of the apartment. A screen shut it off +from the long line of cages. A square of warm carpet covered the bare +tiles on the floor. A small table with some paper and-note books and +a shaded lamp stood in front of the fire. Jenkins sat in the doctor’s +chair listening to the moaning of unspeakable pain that filled all the +air, low and desolate and hopeless, and shuddered.</p> + +<p>When the feeling of physical illness had worn off a little, he rose to +his feet and retraced his steps down the long avenue of cages. He could +not bear to look at them again but kept his gaze resolutely in front of +him. He knew he could do nothing to help the hapless tortured inmates. +His duties were to clean out the cages and to feed and water and wait +upon the healthy animals. He was not allowed to interfere with the +animals under experiment. If he overstepped his limit by the very least +he saw he would be thrown out at once and he was bent upon staying. He +felt quite clearly he was face to face with some momentous evil that +was vast and far-reaching and of which he could not read the meaning. +He could not grapple with it for he did not fully yet understand +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> +what it was but he would be patient, he would be calm, he would be +self-controlled, he would watch and study and wait and then perhaps he +could do something. But infinite caution would be necessary: no rash +step, no giving way to raging impulses of anger and indignation would +serve him here nor help those tortured prisoners. “Who sups with the +devil must have a long spoon” and he felt he was now the guest of the +devil, indeed.</p> + +<p>He got out of the apartment at last and closed the door after him. He +went down the hallway and listened at the small laboratory door behind +which he knew the dog was lying clamped in the trough. The moaning had +ceased. There was no sound now. Jenkins crept on up the stairs to his +own top floor rooms. Before commencing the flight he first noticed +another door on his left which he had not opened. He read on it in +passing on a small plate, Lethal Chamber. He dragged himself up the +stairs and finally reached his own little rooms at the top: with which +he had been so pleased the night before. Only the night before and it +seemed he had lived through an age of misery since then. He entered his +own little sitting room, bolted the door after him and then sat down at +the table, his head in his hands, a broken man. His beliefs, faiths, +ideals, were all shattered and fell from him leaving him naked and +alone.</p> + +<p>This was England; These things were done in England, allowed, approved +of, and he had loved England, believed in it, fought for it. Did he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> +love it now? No. Would he fight for it and offer his life again for +it? No. He had believed in God. He had loved him. Not all the war and +the suffering and the horror of it had shaken his belief in Him. Did +he believe in Him now? Love Him? No. There could be no loving, good, +all-powerful being who could look down on that laboratory and that man +who worked there and not shrivel them both to nothing. A God there +might be, but if these things pleased Him then He must be evil. If they +did not please Him He must be as powerless as Jenkins himself to stop +them.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was that. Perhaps there was a spirit of good but perhaps it +could not work alone, perhaps it needed human co-operation. This was +a new thought to Jenkins and it give a little light to the broken and +dejected man.</p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2">CHAPTER 2</p> + + +<p>Day after day went slowly by and Jenkins toiled along the painful road +of life into which he had been so suddenly brought, bearing his burden +of grief and pain and learning, learning all the time. Every hour he +saw further into and through the mist of horror that surrounded him. He +learnt greedily. He felt it was vitally necessary to learn everything +about this terrible wrong that he saw being committed, if he wished in +any way to remedy it. To fight a thing successfully you must know what +it is: you must know what you are fighting.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span></p> + +<p>He saw many volumes on the doctor’s bookshelves and asked permission to +read them which was genially accorded him.</p> + +<p>“You’ll find things to stagger you in them,” Sir Charles said +pleasantly, “and lots of hard words. I don’t think you’ll get very +far with them.” But Jenkins did get much farther than the doctor +thought. He found the books were mostly volumes written by scientific +men describing their own work, records of experiments they had made +on living animals set out in full by themselves. And in spite of the +stupid jargon of words surrounding them and the heavy language Jenkins +saw that two things stood out very plainly, one, the hideous suffering +of the animals thus used, the other the absolute uselessness and +senselessness of the experiments as far as regarded Humanity. They were +very enlightening books and so Jenkins found them. Then there was a big +scrap book compiled by the doctor himself, that led Jenkins far along +the road of understanding. This book contained newspaper cuttings of +all descriptions bearing in any way on medical life and work.</p> + +<p>Reports of coroners’ inquests especially those where the conduct of +a doctor or nurse had been called in question and where invariably +they had been triumphantly cleared by the coroner (usually himself a +doctor) and votes of sympathy extended to them. These passages had +been underscored with a red pencil and often a note of exclamation +added to them, by the old cynic who had pasted them in. There were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> +many announcements of wonderful cures and these were starred by a blue +pencil and many pages further on in cuttings of a later date Jenkins +would find these “cures” contradicted and dismissed as worthless hoaxes +and a blue star was put against these also. Then there were long +panegyrics on medical science in general and underneath these were +mostly pencilled notes by the doctor, “Written by Smith,” “Good old +Ted,” “Very good Charlie,” “That’s the stuff to give ’em,” and so on. +Then there were pictures of Royalty opening hospital wards: Royalty +going to balls in aid of hospitals, etc., and side by side with these, +accounts of patients who had jumped from hospital windows: patients who +had died on the operating table, patients who having lost their limbs +or their sight by the mistreatment in hospitals went back to their +garrets to hang themselves or gas themselves to death. Sometimes these +columns were marked by exclamation marks, some times the juxtaposition +was left to speak for itself. Jenkins could just imagine the face of +the doctor with his tongue in his cheek, as he glued the cuttings in.</p> + +<p>Jenkins spent many hours hanging fascinated over this volume.</p> + +<p>From the vivisectors’ own books he learnt what vivisection really was, +from the reports in the papers he learnt what the public thought it +was and how they were assiduously taught by the press to regard it and +medical science generally.</p> + +<p>Then there were other means of self education, one of the best +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> +of which though the most painful was listening to the doctor’s +conversation and that of his friends on those evenings when the great +man had some friends or some young students in to visit him. Jenkins +would be called upon to wait on them at a light supper with heavy +drinks which they took in the doctor’s study.</p> + +<p>Jenkins as has been said was not a scientific person, he was simply a +man of common sense and the way those scientific men talked, the utter +brutality and callousness of their jokes, their stories, their whole +view of the sufferings of humanity, the confessions they made or rather +perhaps one should say the boasts, of how they had acted in their +hospital wards, made his blood run cold.</p> + +<p>One thing he saw, emerged very clearly and restored somewhat to his +mind the belief in eternal Justice. He saw that this Scientific +Research, so unutterably wicked and cruel to the animals, was at the +same time proving an unspeakable curse to humanity.</p> + +<p>As he heard the talk of reckless experiments on patients unnecessary +operations, over-doses of <i>X</i>-ray that burnt human insides out, and the +joking and laughter over human agony, he recognized that Humanity +was being justly punished and that the men, degraded by horrible +experiments on animals were totally unfitted to have the care of sick +and helpless men and women.</p> + +<p>One night climbing to his room after attendance at one of these suppers +and listening to the revolting talk, he went to bed, white and dizzy +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> +and shaking. In the darkness and stillness a question seemed to form +itself within him and he examined it carefully bringing all the +knowledge he had gained to bear upon it.</p> + +<p>Ought he to kill this man?</p> + +<p>Murder! That would be murder: a horrible idea, a horrible thought, a +horrible word to the well-balanced, civilized mind; and to Jenkins, +sober and straight-living, the typical good citizen without a trace of +criminality in his disposition it was appalling.</p> + +<p>Murder! No! On no account must one murder. It was an essentially +wrong, unpardonable act. But would it be murder? he asked himself +in his clear, hard-thinking though uneducated mind. Would it not be +justifiable homicide? Let him consider. He must consider this question +from all points. Here he was on the verge of a decision to commit an +act forbidden by the law of his country, regarded with detestation by +his fellows and condemned by religion. He would take the point of law +first. The law allowed justifiable homicide. If that were the verdict, +the accused was acquitted with honour.</p> + +<p>On what grounds was that verdict given when one man killed another? +First, self-defence. If the doctor attacked him and he feared his own +life was in danger, he might kill the doctor with impunity. <i>His own +life.</i> He might kill the doctor to save his own life.</p> + +<p>Then why not to save something he valued much more highly? To save +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> +from agonising suffering those thousand of helpless innocent loving +animals that the doctor would torture during his evil life? <i>Jenkins’ +life</i>, what was that? Like all brave natures he had hardly a +thought for it. A run-away horse, a woman in a canal, a child on a +railway track, any of these might call for and receive its sacrifice +at any time. Certainly to save even that one line of animals in the +laboratory, slowly perishing in their long drawn out anguish he would +have laid down his life, had that been able to help matters.</p> + +<p>Therefore, if the law allowed him to murder to save his own life, +why should it not allow him to murder to save something he valued +infinitely more? Jenkins revolved this anxiously and slowly in his +sedate mind till he came to the conclusion that the law should permit +him this choice.</p> + +<p>Then he took up another point: the law would certainly call it +justifiable homicide if he saw the doctor murdering a man, woman or +child, any human being, even an imbecile, and killed him in defence of +any of those. Then why should he not kill him to save those thousands +of poor patients that the doctor would certainly murder if allowed +to live out his evil life to its natural close? Only that evening he +had heard him saying to a student that he had performed a certain +operation three thousand times and it had never done any good: only +killed or crippled. Jenkins shuddered as he thought of the mutilated +victims dragging out their ruined lives; women who had come to the +doctor full of hope and faith and had been sent away according to his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> +own statement, shattered wrecks. <i>But what could they expect?</i> +How could they come to a man for sympathy or expect him to be moved or +restrained by any decent feeling when he spent his whole life wallowing +in the most frightful mutilation of animals?</p> + +<p>Jenkins marvelled at their folly.</p> + +<p>But he must get back to his point as to the law. The law would allow +him to kill the doctor if he were murdering <i>one</i> woman, then why +not when he was murdering thousands? Again, there was that paragraph +in a daily paper stating that a certain serum had been “successfully +tried on 300 children.” What about all the children on whom it had been +unsuccessfully “tried”?</p> + +<p>Jenkins seemed for a moment to see round him a plain covered with the +small graves of children, done to death by the modern Moloch—Science. +He would save the lives of many human victims as well as the animal +victims if he extinguished this one evil existence.</p> + +<p>Since Jenkins had come to the laboratory he had not seen one single +useful experiment made, one single operation that might be excused by +some people on the ground of its utility. He had seen cats filled with +water till they burst, of what good is that to humanity? He had seen +dogs distorted by rickets, and dogs put into boxes which were gradually +heated while the doctor watched the animals inside through a glass +window panting and writhing without water or air. He had seen the dogs +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> +dragged out in a desperate condition and expire within half an hour. +How was humanity benefited? He had seen monkeys suffering cruelly from +measles, to what end? He had seen animals covered with tar expiring in +lingering agonies. What was the use?</p> + +<p>He had seen the doctor take a clear eyed, healthy cat and deliberately +induce an ulcer in one eye and watch it day by day, eating the organ +away and when the work of destruction was complete he would set up an +ulcer in the other eye, encouraged apparently rather than the reverse +by its heartrending screams of pain and finally throw it back into its +cage in total blindness and convulsions of agony. And the results? What +had the Scientists to show?</p> + +<p>A few of their vaunted remedies passed in review before him:</p> + +<p>Insulin which the Scientists admitted amongst themselves to be more +deadly than the diabetes it was supposed to cure.</p> + +<p>Anti-toxin for diphtheria, dangerous and unknown as to its after +effects while the simple Bella Donna was a known specific for the +disease. The inoculation of anti-typhoid serum used in the war. Jenkins +had been to the war and he knew that where the sanitation had been +good, there had been no typhoid. Where the sanitation had been bad +the anti-typhoid serum had not saved the troops. Typhoid had reigned +in spite of it. And so on, and so on. In the whole long list of +“discoveries” and “remedies” emanating from laboratories there was not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> +one that he could find that had been proved of benefit, not one for +which a simple common-sense substitute could not be found.</p> + +<p>Useful, beneficial, good—any of this work? No, it was simply hellish +and having seen it as he had at close quarters and recognising it for +what it was, it was his duty to stop it in the only way he could.</p> + +<p>It would not be murder, it would be homicide and justifiable a hundred +times over.</p> + +<p>Anger carried him away for a moment but he brought his thoughts back +to calm consideration. What good would it do? The removal of this one +man? Very little, he admitted sorrowfully. But it seemed to him, in the +phrase of the war: “it was his bit.”</p> + +<p>How often in the recruiting days the men had been told they were not to +worry over the larger aspects, the greater issues of the war. They were +not to say to themselves that the little which each man could do would +not either win or lose the war. No, each man was to do “his bit.” If he +killed one German it was good. If he killed ten, it was better. And if +he shrank from killing a fellow man he was to remember that by so doing +he was saving the lives of perhaps hundreds of his comrades.</p> + +<p>The same reasoning seemed to apply here. He could not do much. He could +not sweep away that cancer of modern civilization—medical scientific +research. He could not influence the ending of it, any more than he +could influence the ending of the war, but he could do his bit. He +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> +could kill this one man and by so doing save thousands of his fellow +human beings and thousands of his no less fellow beings—the animals.</p> + +<p>The human beings, really, Jenkins doubted if it were his mission to +save. If they could be so blind, so stupid, so selfish and so cruel as +to allow such work as the doctor’s, because they fancied they might +gain something from it, it was only Divine Justice that they should be +poisoned by the medicines manufactured so hideously. That the Insulin +gained by the torture of dogs; the anti-toxins brought by the agony of +horses; the small-pox vaccine scooped from the aching sores of cows and +all the other vile and filthy products of the laboratory should give +them death and disease instead of the relief they sought.</p> + +<p>But for the sake of the animals, entirely innocent, unselfish, +trusting, devoted, that this fiend would torture daily, year by year, +if he lived, for their sake, Jenkins would “do his bit” and save them.</p> + +<p>The next morning he rose, his head clear, his heart stout and +determined. He had been sent there for some good reason and he seemed +to see it clearly before him as Joan of Arc saw her mission revealed to +her.</p> + +<p>Possessing himself in patience, he would watch and wait till the +opportunity came to take the doctor’s life and then he would take it +as Jael slew Sisera, as Judith slew Holofernes. How many lives had he +taken in the war? He could not remember but it must have been many: +lives of good honest brave men fighting for their country as he was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> +fighting for his, then should he hesitate now to take a life so mean, +so worthless, so harmful not only to his fellow creatures the animals +but also to his fellow men? Why should he not rid the world of this +monster? A great calmness fell upon Jenkins as he made his resolve and +from that hour, though he lived in pain, he had the courage lent him, +of a man devoted to a cause.</p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2">CHAPTER 3</p> + + +<p>It was a Saturday evening and an evil-looking man stood at the door, +when Jenkins opened it to a modest ring. He had a large black bag which +bulged and looked heavy in his hand.</p> + +<p>“A fine cat, mister,” he whispered hoarsely, “only two bob, hand over +and let me go.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins took the bag and loosening the string at its mouth looked down +into it. At the bottom was a soft mass of handsome-looking fur from +which a faint mew came as the cat saw Jenkins’ face at the top of the +bag. It was evidently very tame and nestled up against Jenkins’ chest +directly he drew it out. It was a magnificent creature, not a Persian, +but with a very thick coat, pure white and a tail like the brush of an +Arctic fox. Jenkins returned the bag and gave two shillings to the man +with the evil face who immediately melted into the darkness and Jenkins +was just closing the door, the cat still in his arms, when the doctor +came up from the outside and entered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span></p> + +<p>“That’s a fine animal,” he remarked as he closed the door and the cat +turned its great golden eyes on him, “how much did you have to give?”</p> + +<p>“Only 2/ Sir,” Jenkins answered, “the man has stolen it I should think.”</p> + +<p>The doctor laughed.</p> + +<p>“Evidently. Some old maid’s cat, I expect. Nice tame beast,” he put +his hand on the cat’s head and ruffled the fur backwards and forwards +rather roughly. The cat put its head back and looked at the doctor +with some resentment in its golden eyes. “Accustomed to sit on the +table and drink cream out of the old maid’s saucer, eh?” he went on +half playfully. “Well, we’ve a little table here for you, my beauty. +We’ll set you on it and clamp you down and then we set it spinning. +One hundred miles an hour or more we keep you whirling round for +a fortnight and then when we take you off your eyes will be all +criss-cross and you’ll be just mad with terror. That’s what we’ll +do with you, Pussy.” Then he walked on humming into his own study, +into which he went and slammed the door. Jenkins left standing in the +passage, the cat still clasped to him, wondered whether men were men +or fiends. A sick loathing grew up in him and seemed to submerge his +spirit like a great wave. Then it rolled over, leaving him with a clear +fierce determination that come what might, this thing in his arms so +gentle, so trustful, should never be placed on that hellish table.</p> + +<p>The cat, distressed by something in the doctor’s touch or voice or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> +face, turned its head up to Jenkins and fixed its beautiful golden gaze +on him and apparently from Jenkins’ drawn sad face it gained confidence +and began to purr. Jenkins with the fire of hatred glowing in his heart +against mankind climbed the stairs to his own room and deposited the +cat on his bed. He then set his stove going, drew his curtains and +poured out a saucer of milk. The cat watched all these proceedings +appreciatively and purred loudly in response. When it had lapped up +all the milk while Jenkins held the saucer, it lay back on the bed and +stretched its paws up purring, saying quite clearly, “Come and caress +me, I’m accustomed to it. I’m a very nice cat,” and Jenkins sat beside +it, stroking it, with the tears burning behind his eye-lids. It was a +stolen pet evidently and Jenkins would not have taken it in at the door +except that he knew if he refused it, where possibly through him it +might have a chance of safety, the cat stealer would simply take it on +to another accursed laboratory where it would have <i>no</i> chance of +escape from the tortures awaiting it.</p> + +<p>That night the doctor called to Jenkins as he was going up to bed, “I’m +very busy just now. I’ve got so many things going to attend to but I’ll +have more time in a week or so. Just remind me about the cat later on, +will you? If I forget.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins listened, his face growing dark as he stood in the shadow, on +the stairs.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir,” he replied and went on up.</p> + +<p>The cat was waiting for him curled on the bed and mewed delightedly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> +at his entrance, showing its white teeth and its little pink tongue, +curled up like a rose leaf, behind them.</p> + +<p>Jenkins seated himself beside the cat and fed it on some scraps he had +brought up with him. For a week the cat remained, a willing prisoner +in his room. He gave it a large tray of earth over by the window to +scratch in and replenished it every day from the bit of common ground +round the house. He brought everything up to it and waited on it and +never let it out where evil eyes could fall on it and all that week he +searched the papers daily for some announcement of a lost cat. There +were no shops very near the laboratory but he walked every day to the +nearest, a small newsagent’s and tobacconist’s where he bought his +papers and then studied them diligently in his own room.</p> + +<p>At last he found the notice he wanted.</p> + +<p>“Lost. A large white tomcat. Not Persian, but thick coat and bushy +tail. Finder will be handsomely rewarded if he brings cat to blank +Grosvenor Square, W.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins read this with a beating heart. This was his cat he felt sure. +The doctor was away for his usual week end. This was Saturday. He +always was allowed Sunday afternoon for himself. To-morrow he would +take the cat back to its owner.</p> + +<p>That night he held it tightly to him and hardly slept but spent his +time stroking and caressing it and realising how lonely he would be +without it. But still to get it out of this hell, safe and alive, was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> +everything. The cat, with all its claws sheathed in its velvet skin +patted gently with its paws Jenkins’ thin cheeks and nestled close to +him purring ecstatically. It missed its own house and mistress but +no animal could be insensible of the flood of love and sympathy that +poured out from Jenkins’ unhappy heart. The next morning he spent +much time on brushing and combing its silky coat and about two in the +afternoon with his heart high in hope he set out for Grosvenor Square, +the cat curled round in the lidded basket which Jenkins had brought, +filled with vegetables, with him from the country. He thought if he; +could once see the owner of the cat and tell him or her of the horrors +his or her pet had so narrowly escaped, then surely anyone so rich and +powerful as to be able to live in Grosvenor Square would take some +steps against the system which made these horrors possible.</p> + +<p>When he arrived at the door of the house it was opened by a footman +who at once glanced at the basket. When Jenkins asked to see the +person who had put in the advertisement, the man replied affably, +“Miss Courtneidge is in and I think will see you.” Then he stooped +down and scratched at the basket side. “Cushy,” he called and a mew of +recognition came from within.</p> + +<p>“Come upstairs,” he said and Jenkins followed full of joyful +anticipation of coming face to face with someone who surely would +listen to his message. He entered a large room and at the far end +there sat Miss Courtneidge, a fat, middle-aged woman with a bright +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> +intelligent and pleasing face. She jumped up and took the basket from +Jenkins smiling and lifted the lid.</p> + +<p>“Oh, there you are Cushy,” she exclaimed, and lifted the creature out +with many murmurs of delight.</p> + +<p>Jenkins stood by respectfully enjoying the scene to the full. There was +no doubt the lady genuinely loved her pet and the cat could hardly have +a better mistress.</p> + +<p>“Do sit down,” she said after a minute, “and tell me where you found +him.”</p> + +<p>She sat down with the cat in her arms and Jenkins took a seat opposite +her.</p> + +<p>“A man, a regular cat stealer, I think, brought him in a bag to our +place and offered him to me for 2/—I saw at once he was stolen and I +thought I’d better take him and try to find the owner. If I hadn’t, the +man would have taken him to another laboratory where they wouldn’t have +bothered to restore him to his owner but used him in the laboratory.”</p> + +<p>The lady was listening intently to Jenkins and he thought her eyes grew +harder.</p> + +<p>“What are you then?” she asked quietly.</p> + +<p>“I am an attendant at a laboratory for Scientific Research,” returned +Jenkins, “and the man brought the cat to be experimented upon, but I +don’t like the business and I meant to save this cat anyway.”</p> + +<p>“If you don’t like it, why do you stay?” asked the lady quietly and +very coldly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span></p> + +<p>Jenkins realised that his hearer’s sympathies were alienated from him +and the false position in which he stood came home to him. At first +he had thought it might be possible to make a clean breast of his +feelings. He had visions of the lady coming to see the tortured animals +and in her righteous wrath having the hideous place done away with +altogether, but now something in the coldness of her voice and eyes +warned him he must go very carefully.</p> + +<p>“I stay to try and do what I can for the animals,” he answered, “do you +know about this Scientific Research, ma’am?”</p> + +<p>“I know that it is a very noble work carried on by selfless men and +women who give up their lives to the cause of humanity,” replied the +lady proudly.</p> + +<p>Jenkins looked back at her aghast as these parrot phrases fell from her +lips. Evidently she knew nothing at all about it and against this dense +ignorance he felt he had no weapons.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know what goes on in the laboratories, animals are tortured +to death and given the most hideous sufferings that don’t lead to +anything,” he said.</p> + +<p>The lady compressed her lips.</p> + +<p>“I can’t believe you,” she said icily, “I have many friends who are +doctors and scientific men and I am sure they would do nothing but what +is right. If they have to experiment on animals I am sure they do it +kindly.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins could have laughed bitterly as he heard but he controlled +himself and answered:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span></p> + +<p>“How <i>can</i> you starve animals kindly, ma’am?”</p> + +<p>The lady looked cross and was silent for a moment and Jenkins burst out:</p> + +<p>“Do come with me now and I’ll show you what Scientific Research really +means. The laboratory is empty, I am in sole charge, the doctor is +away. Come and see the animals for yourself. Then you can judge about +it.”</p> + +<p>The lady looked crosser than ever.</p> + +<p>“Thank you. I am quite capable of judging the matter already. I rely +upon what my doctor tells me. In any case, if there were any cruelty, I +couldn’t bear to see it, I couldn’t sleep for a week if I did.”</p> + +<p>Again Jenkins felt helpless and appalled. What stupendous folly, what +selfishness! Any cruelty might be practiced, provided <i>she</i> did +not see it, provided <i>her</i> sleep was not disturbed.</p> + +<p>“I really must ask you to go now,” she continued. “I have a meeting +this afternoon here of the League of Love. We have the Bishop coming +and we are going to organize something to aid the hospitals.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins rose immediately.</p> + +<p>“To aid the hospitals! To build new laboratories for the torture of +<i>more</i> animals! Oh ma’am, you don’t know what you are doing! +If <i>I</i> had not saved your cat he’d have been pinned down to an +electric table and spun round at 100 miles an hour for a fortnight and +taken off it mad and blind to have his brain opened and looked at. That +was <i>his</i> fate and how does that help humanity?”</p> + +<p>The lady was standing too.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span></p> + +<p>“You need not expect that I shall increase your reward for bringing him +back by telling me these wicked stories,” she said severely. “Here is +two pounds. I shall not give you any more!” and she held towards him +two pound-notes.</p> + +<p>Over Jenkins’ face ran a flame of scarlet, then faded leaving him +ashy white. That was what she thought! That he was detailing false +sufferings to increase his own reward!</p> + +<p>He took the notes from her hand and dropped them on the floor and then +stepped forward and put his foot down on them, looking her full in the +face.</p> + +<p>“That, ma’am, is what I care for your reward! I brought that creature +back to you because I loved it. I never thought of the reward and +should not have taken any in any case. I pray some day you may be +shaken out of the darkness and the ignorance you live in.”</p> + +<p>He turned and strode to the door, leaving the notes on the floor and +the lady too astonished to say anything. A pair of golden eyes watched +him depart and a little soft mew came to his ears as he closed the door +and seemed to stab into his heart.</p> + +<p>He walked down the stairs and out into the street with a sorely wounded +spirit. All the joy and elation at having rescued the cat and restored +it was blotted out by the cold tide of despair. He felt that he was +helpless to save others just as loving, just as beautiful as this one, +from death by torture. What could he do? So long as the world consisted +of the friends who did these things and the fools who were so kind +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> +that they couldn’t believe in the fiends and so cowardly that they +would not consider the question for fear of losing a night’s sleep, +what could he do? “God help me, God help me,” was the cry that rose +in his heart. And formerly it had comforted him and he had believed +that God would help him however unkind man might be. But how? Was +there any God? Was it not a Devil who ruled the world if this sort of +Scientific Research were allowed in it? Why should God help him, if he +cared nothing for the miseries of the innocent and sweet animals he had +created?</p> + +<p>Thoroughly miserable he went back to the hell on the common and up +in his own room, making his solitary tea, he took himself severely +to task. Had he wasted that golden opportunity, when he, knowing the +truth, was face to face with one who knew nothing except some phrases +culled from the articles of doctors, in the Press? Could he have done +better? Was it his fault that he had failed? Over and over in his mind +he turned that conversation but could decide nothing. His brains felt +battered and weary but he was glad the cat was gone.</p> + +<p>The very next morning when the doctor returned, he called Jenkins into +his study.</p> + +<p>“Jenkins our stock of dogs is low, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“The last one died last night, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Oh: which was that?”</p> + +<p>“The little Skye you were starving, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“H’m: when did I begin? Do you remember?”</p> + +<p>“Ten days ago.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p> + +<p>“Ten days! That’s quite a good record. Isn’t it? Had it eaten that coke +I put in the cage?”</p> + +<p>“No, Sir. Only gnawed it a bit. I found blood on it where the coke had +cut its mouth. It hadn’t eaten it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” cheerily, “we must get in some more dogs. By the way, +there’s that cat, bring me that.”</p> + +<p>“Sorry, Sir, the cat escaped.”</p> + +<p>“What?” the doctor wheeled round in his chair and looked piercingly at +his attendant, but Jenkin’s face was still and stolid as a mask.</p> + +<p>“You let it go, you mean, do you? I thought you were rather soft headed +over that cat when it came in. Now look here, mind this, if any more +animals <i>escape</i> at any time, I shall have no further use for you. +See?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“And to-morrow morning you’ll go and get me half a dozen kittens: +big ones. Go to the Army and Navy Stores or anywhere you like but +mind those kittens are here by noon. I am going to try some eye +transplanting.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins withdrew.</p> + +<p>How could such a man be allowed to exist, he asked himself. How could +such a place as this stand? Why did not a lightning stroke burn it to +the ground with its fiendish owner inside? Why did not the flame that +swept over Sodom and Gomorra sweep also over the laboratories of London +and obliterate them?</p> + +<p>Then he smiled grimly remembering how the laboratories were supported +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> +by the tax payer, approved by the king, and beloved by the aristocracy.</p> + +<p>What was he, Jenkins, to think differently from all these? He was only +a poor common-sense man of the people. But he knew and they did not. +That was the tragedy of it. He would have given his life to be able to +tell and convince them.</p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2">CHAPTER 4</p> + + +<p>One evening the doctor on coming home tossed a card over to Jenkins +with the remark, “Better come to the lecture and hear me talk the money +out of the public pocket.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins looked at the card and saw it admitted him at 8 p. m. on the +coming Thursday evening to a lecture on Scientific Research by Sir +Charles Smith-Brown, Dsc. M.D., etc., etc. Jenkins thanked him and put +the card in his pocket and on the next Thursday he presented his ticket +punctually at the time and place appointed.</p> + +<p>The small lecture room was already well filled when Jenkins entered +and he noticed that the first four or five rows of seats were railed +off by a crimson cord from the rest and in these were seated people +that Jenkins recognized immediately as “gentlefolk.” They were all very +well dressed in semi-evening dress and had, for the most part, nice +kind-looking intelligent faces. Jenkins spirits rose as he saw them.</p> + +<p>“Surely they can’t easily be humbugged,” he thought, “they’ve been +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> +taught to read and think and had plenty of time for schooling.”</p> + +<p>He slipped quietly into a vacant seat he saw some rows back of the red +cord. Here the people were all in hats and coats and had evidently come +on foot to the meeting. Their faces were harder looking than those in +front but they also looked intelligent, interested and alert. Jenkins +particularly liked the look of his neighbour. A hard working man he +should think, perhaps a small tradesman running his own business or +perhaps a clerk, anyway he looked keen and quick as a man with his own +decided ideas and opinions.</p> + +<p>The platform was now filling up with figures: the ladies resplendent +in gay coloured Opera cloaks and wearing jewels in their beautifully +dressed hair, the men showing large expanses of shirt front. Among +these Jenkins noted the sleek form of the doctor and a glow of hatred +seemed to spread through him as he noted the suave smile on the thin +lips and the benign expression of the whole face so different from the +set, savage stare Jenkins was familiar with as the man worked in his +laboratory, tearing muscle and nerve out of quivering flesh.</p> + +<p>“Blasted hypocrite,” he thought furiously to himself and then he noted +the eyes of his neighbour quickly passing over the platform as the +stately and imposing figures filed onto it quietly and took their +appointed seats.</p> + +<p>“Who are they all?” he asked in an undertone of the keen faced one.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span></p> + +<p>“Regular swells, all of them,” the man returned in the same discreet +voice which was quick like his eyes. “That’s the Marquis of Sedlestone +in the chair and that’s Lord and Lord and Lord,” he ran off the names +so quickly Jenkins could hardly catch them. “He’s gulled them all. They +all believe in him and this beastly Research. That’s what beats me. How +they can be such fools.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins nodded sympathetically. He felt happier. Evidently this man +beside him knew the truth of things. He longed intensely to confide in +him and tell him what <i>he</i> knew but he controlled the impulse. If +he was to carry out successfully his great scheme absolute secrecy and +concealment of his own feelings was necessary. There was no time for +further talk in any case for after a few preliminaries on the platform +had been arranged, there was the silver tinkle of a bell and the +Marquis of Sedlestone rose to address the audience.</p> + +<p>There was absolute silence in the hall and Jenkins listened +breathlessly to every word.</p> + +<p>“My Lords, ladies and gentlemen, we have the privilege to-night of +being gathered together to listen to one of the most distinguished men +of our time, Sir Charles Brown-Smith, M.D. Dsc. Science may be said to +be the leading force in the world to-day and in him we see one of its +most brilliant exponents.” (Applause.) “Science to-day is advancing +with the steps of a giant. Disease and decay are fading, diminishing, +vanishing before it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span></p> + +<p>“What bosh all that is when they can’t cure a common cold,” thought +Jenkins.</p> + +<p>“Maladies are disappearing. Yellow fever is conquered, consumption all +but conquered, cancer—”</p> + +<p>“Is increasing,” shouted a voice at the back of the hall.</p> + +<p>There was some laughter in the back seats but only a slight offended +rustle from the front rows.</p> + +<p>“Alas! Yes,” continued the suave well-modulated voice from the +platform. “As my friend at the back of the hall has remarked, cancer is +increasing and that proves that more research is needed, more patient +labour, more funds, more encouragement for those noble men and women +who—”</p> + +<p>“You’ve been at it now over twenty years,” interrupted the voice in a +dominant tone that filled the hall, “and had buckets of money poured +into it, without an atom of result, except that cancer is spreading +everywhere all the time, and it’s you people who are doing it. You’re +not stopping it: you’re spreading it with your beastly laboratories all +full of animals dying of it. Aren’t they breathing out cancer all the +time? Aren’t their cages full of it? Aren’t the men who look after them +carrying cancer germs with them everywhere?”</p> + +<p>While these strident questions were being hurled at him, the noble +Marquis had waited silent on the platform, looking slightly annoyed and +after a second or two he turned and made some observation to a young +man sitting behind him, who rose immediately and left the platform by +its side door. There had been some applause from various parts of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> +hall as these questions full of scalding contempt had been shouted out +and heads were turned and necks craned to see who the interrupter was. +Only the front rows sat unmoved as if they had not heard, their eyes +fixed before them waiting for the authorised speaker to continue and +a few seconds after the young man had disappeared from the platform, +there was a violent scuffle at the back of the room. Between two stout +men of the law the interrupter was unceremoniously bundled out.</p> + +<p>“There’s the Free Speech of England to-day,” came a caustic whisper +from Jenkins’ bright-eyed neighbour, “if ever there’s a revolution in +England, it’ll be these damned medical men who are at the bottom of it.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins again nodded in silence. The noble Marquis was proceeding.</p> + +<p>“As I was saying, Science had made the most remarkable advances and +suffering Humanity could turn its eyes hopefully to the future where +disease would be stamped out, pain practically abolished, and the +onset of old age delayed by 50 or 70 years. But I will not detain you +longer. I will leave to our distinguished lecturer the pleasing task of +explaining to you how these marvels will be accomplished.”</p> + +<p>“Awful tosh,” murmured keen-eyes as the noble Marquis took his seat and +Sir Charles Brown-Smith rose to address the meeting.</p> + +<p>“My Lords, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “my noble friend has +promised you that I shall tell you some of the most recent marvels +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> +Science has accomplished and I will not disappoint you, but first I +should like to say a few words on that vexed question—experiments on +living animals. Some evilly disposed persons have recently been trying +to oppose the glorious march of Science by suggesting that there is +cruelty connected with these experiments that are so vital to our work, +so necessary to its success, so far reaching in their results for +suffering humanity. I wish now to state that in my work I am frequently +obliged to resort to these experiments and also to witness them in the +studies of others and I can confidently assure you that there is not +an atom of cruelty connected with them.” Here the doctor paused and +beamed upon his docile audience through his large spectacles while a +gentle smile suffused his whole benign countenance. A warm murmur of +grateful applause rose from the seats beyond the red cord: the mass of +the people at the back listened in sullen silence: an indrawn breath of +sheer astonishment from Jenkins greeted this stupendous lie.</p> + +<p>“The animals,” continued the doctor, “who have the honour of being +permitted to share in this glorious work, are cared for with devoted +attention, no effort is spared in seeing that they are properly housed +and well fed. They have every comfort and to see them sporting behind +the bars of their spacious cages one would imagine they were rejoicing +in their great destiny.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins, on hearing this, simply turned in his chair, open mouthed to +his companion of the keen eyes, and met their clear quizzical gaze +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> +fixed upon him.</p> + +<p>“Good one, that eh?” keen-eyes murmured.</p> + +<p>“Ananias!” shouted an unregenerate person at the back of the hall, +“what about your starving experiments?”</p> + +<p>The doctor deigned no reply and the former scuffling sounds being +repeated, the audience knew that the interrupter had been removed and +the English tradition of liberty again upheld.</p> + +<p>“Well fed, well cared for, watched over,” continued the doctor blandly, +“and all they have to suffer is the trifling discomfort of a quick +prick from an inoculating needle or a variation of their usual diet.”</p> + +<p>As these lies poured smoothly forth in the great man’s mellow voice, +Jenkins saw before him the rows of desolate zinc floored cages, each +with its tortured inmate moaning out its life, he saw the puppies +starving and distorted beyond recognition in the experiment for +rickets, the dog blinded and sitting in hopeless agonies because his +eyes had been taken to graft into another dog’s sockets, the monkeys +wasted to a skeleton or hugely swelled, going blind and semi-paralysed +because their thyroid gland had been cut out, all these horrible sights +rose before him and he gazed at the speaker, stupefied and dumb.</p> + +<p>His neighbour spoke in a low voice in his ear, very low because he had +no wish to be turned out. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the +red cord.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span></p> + +<p>“Why on earth they don’t see that he’s guying them, beats me,” he said.</p> + +<p>“So now let us dismiss this myth of cruelty from our mind, let us +remember that great men are rarely cruel and let us refuse to believe +these unjust libels that ignorant and prejudiced people are so wantonly +spreading.” Here the doctor’s voice took on a mild severity and the red +corders all warmly applauded.</p> + +<p>The speaker proceeded.</p> + +<p>“I have mentioned how this myth of cruelty impedes the progress +of Science but I shall now touch upon something that is even more +obstructive to our success: something that is constantly hampering +us in our forward march, and that is in this country the absence of +compulsion. Yes, my friends, it is true: we are suffering from too much +liberty. Liberty is a very excellent thing, a fine thing, but it can be +pushed too far, we can have too much of it.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Never</i>,” from the back benches.</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, we can have too much even of liberty. Liberty which +harms ourselves, liberty which harms others must be curtailed. I +say unhesitatingly that liberty to refuse the untold benefits of +vaccination, of inoculation, is an evil. Those who are so blind as to +fail to see the benefits, for themselves, should be forced to accept +them. I look forward personally to that time, not I trust, far distant, +when like our great sister nation, America, we shall have compulsion +for everything that is now left to the ignorant individual to decide +for himself.”</p> + +<p>At this point the red corders began to move uneasily in their chairs +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> +and look at each other. They were not quite so sure about all this.</p> + +<p>“What can the individual know about the uses or the benefits of the +processes offered to him, which he so often rashly and fatally refuses? +Is it fair to throw the burden of deciding upon him? How far better +that the man of Science, the man who knows, should decide for him and +<i>compel</i> him to accept the inestimable blessings of Science! I am +pleased to say there is a great forward movement to be noticed lately +in this direction, no one can enter the Army or the Navy or any public +service, nor can a boy go to a public school without being vaccinated +for instance, very excellent, very admirable and now that we have the +Ministry of Health we may look forward to suitable laws being passed +which will bring every individual, no matter of what class or station +under the grasp of the healing hand of Science. Personally I think, +and I hope, it will not be long before that simple and so necessary +operation of taking out the tonsils will be made compulsory.”</p> + +<p>“I should like to say a word,” came a voice from the back and it was so +hollow, so sepulchral that it attracted instant attention and even the +red corders looked round to see to whom it belonged.</p> + +<p>A young man of a pallid countenance and hollow cheeks was standing up +and the doctor seeing the audience was interested and would like to +hear what the interrupter had to say, affected to be quite willing and +waited for him to continue.</p> + +<p>“I was well and strong,” proceeded the pale cheeked one in his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> +remarkable voice which went all over the hall, “till a medical chap +looked down my throat and advised me to have my tonsils cut out. I +didn’t know what I was in for and went to a hospital and had it done. +It’s a horrible operation and I suffered for a week after. Well, it’s +done I think and that’s that. But it wasn’t over as I thought. My +tonsils grow now since they’ve been cut. In a year I was told they +must be done again and now I’ve been through that damned thing <i>five +times</i>. I lose a lot of blood each time over it, it gets on my +nerves, and I’m a wreck. That’s what cutting out tonsils has done for +me. And I know it’s wrong now. The tonsils are filters put in our +throats to filter the air before it reaches the lungs and to stop bad +germs going further. I know now what Nature put ’em there for and I say +it’s a crying shame to take them out.”</p> + +<p>This last was shouted defiantly and the young man paler than ever +before and with beads of sweat standing out on his corpse-like +countenance sat down.</p> + +<p>There was dead silence for a moment in the hall where Truth for a +second had flitted through the fog of lies rising from the platform and +rent it with her sharp wings.</p> + +<p>Then the doctor, very suave, very smiling, took up his parable again.</p> + +<p>“My young friend has indeed suffered and we must extend our sympathies +to him. At the same time we must not allow our judgment to be +influenced by one unfortunate accidental case, when we know that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> +millions are benefited.”</p> + +<p>“Who says they are?” shouted back the young man. “Only you doctor +people, not those who’ve been through it!”</p> + +<p>“And who should know better than the doctors?” blandly returned the +lecturer. “That is just the very point I was going to elaborate when +my young friend interrupted me. Perhaps he himself has been benefited, +perhaps had he not taken the first advice he would have been now +suffering from some malady worse than the mere loss of his tonsils, +perhaps he would not have been here at all.”</p> + +<p>The red corders nodded solemnly at this and gave some faint indications +of applause. In the back seats the young man muttered “Rot,” but the +doctor was proceeding with his lecture and the young man and Truth were +definitely squashed.</p> + +<p>Jenkins sat in his seat wondering. Had the young man made any +impression on the red corders or not? He thought not. They had come +there determined to hear the doctor, determined to hear no one else. +They were determined to believe in him and to refuse to believe anyone +else. That was their attitude. The doctor went on.</p> + +<p>“To compel people to be healthy and happy surely that is what the +laws should aim at and while now having grown up in our present lax +system of pleasing himself, the individual may feel it hard to have +his liberty curtailed I look forward to the future in which the child +having been brought up on scientific principles from the first will +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> +not miss what he has never had—his liberty. Yes, that is the ideal, +ladies and gentlemen, the child, we shall begin with the child. We +shall take him from the cradle, nay more we shall deal with the mother +beforehand, so that his pre-natal welfare will be studied. In the +future we shall no longer see the poor neglected child clinging to the +hand of its slatternly mother and sucking at the noxious sweets she has +in her ignorance bought for it. No! We shall see a little being, gently +led by a sweet faced hospital nurse, his eyes carefully protected by +glasses, his pearly teeth already stopped with gold and supported by +plates. No dirty clothes to harbor disease about him, he is dressed +in the neat and simple uniform provided by the State. And within his +little frame has been as carefully tended, his tonsils removed he need +not dread tonsillitis, his appendix taken away what cause has he to +fear appendicitis, <i>X</i>-rayed every week, no disease can approach +him unperceived. Vaccinated every year against small-pox, inoculated +frequently for typhoid and all the murderous maladies that surround us, +here is my ideal little citizen of the future. He faces life armed by +Science against all ills. Is it not an inspiring picture?”</p> + +<p>The doctor paused and beamed in a fatherly way as if the little +monstrosity he had conjured up by his words were on the platform, +before him.</p> + +<p>The red corders gave some applause, there was dead silence at the back +for a second, then a voice asked:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span></p> + +<p>“What about his little legs and arms, Mister, has he got ’em still, or +have they been sawn off and artificial ones hooked on?”</p> + +<p>Loud laughter from all the back benches greeted this interruption. When +it had subsided the doctor replied gravely:</p> + +<p>“Certainly nothing would be done to remove his limbs unnecessarily, if +on the other hand any accident happened to him there are artificial +limbs in readiness so carefully thought out, so exquisitely fashioned +that they function nearly as well as the natural ones.”</p> + +<p>“Rats!” came an angry voice from the wooden benches and a young man +sprang to his feet. He looked like an ex-soldier, his face was pale and +thin with a hectic flush burning on his cheek-bones. One sleeve hung +empty by his side.</p> + +<p>“Look at me!” he shouted, “I had my arm taken off in the war by some of +you devils. Wasn’t a bit necessary, ordinary nursing would have saved +it. But what’s that to you? You don’t care for flesh and blood, you +only care for your devilish devices. I had a flesh wound and off you +took my arm and gave me a false one, a thing all straps and buckles +and springs that tortured me like hell. I was kept on view and taught +to pick up a pin when the Queen came to see me. What good’s that to +me? The whole thing fell to pieces after a week or two. You leave us +alone and our children too. We don’t want your spectacles and your +false teeth and your <i>X</i>-rays. Leave our young ’uns alone as God +made ’em. That’s what I say.” He sat down and all those at the back +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> +applauded loudly.</p> + +<p>The doctor on the platform gave his shoulders an infinitesimal shrug +and waited in silence until the storm had subsided. Then he continued +in a pained voice, as one grieved by the deep ingratitude of the world.</p> + +<p>“Again I can only say we must not judge from unfortunate exceptions. +Artificial limbs are and have been and will always be a great boon to +humanity.”</p> + +<p>“We prefer to keep our own, thank you!” retorted the young man, which +remark the doctor passed over with a patient air and continued his +lecture.</p> + +<p>There was nothing new in it. The same old rubbish that is always set +afloat by the doctors and scientific men and then repeated pompously +from mouth to mouth without examination by the asses in society was +duly brought forward here.</p> + +<p>As the doctor himself with his usual cynicism would have remarked, “Why +take the trouble to invent a new lie when you can still gull the public +with the old one?”</p> + +<p>He cited the great benefits that Science had conferred on humanity in +the War, how inoculation had saved the troops from typhoid without +explaining why a hundred thousand had died after Gallipoli.</p> + +<p>He dilated on the wonderful advantages of the <i>X</i>-ray without +mentioning the countless victims who had been slowly roasted to death +under it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span></p> + +<p>He expatiated on anti-toxin cures of diphtheria without explaining why +the death rate from diphtheria had gone up and not down since its use +and without mentioning that Bella Donna is a specific for that disease +and there is no need whatever for anti-toxin which involves the most +hideous suffering to horses.</p> + +<p>Lies and lies and more lies flowed from his lips until it seemed +to Jenkins he got choked with them. A hurried sip of water and he +brought his speech to a close with the usual appeal for more funds for +Research, that noble work in which thousands of selfless men and women +(like himself, he implied) were spending their lives. After that came +some whisper and a little fluttering pause. Then the Chairman announced +amidst applause from the red corders that a cheque for 50,000 pounds +had been received from a member of the audience who wished to remain +anonymous, for the splendid work—the direct result of the doctor’s +moving address.</p> + +<p>With hissing and booing the company at the back got on to their feet +and made for the doors.</p> + +<p>Jenkins and his neighbour went out together. A line of well appointed, +lighted motors stood outside. The two men paused as if with one accord +and waited watching the well dressed crowd come out, get into their +cars and roll smoothly away.</p> + +<p>“There they go,” keen-eyes said bitterly, “home to sleep in their +downy beds or to eat and drink with never a thought of the agony of +the poor suffering animals. Fools! Led by the nose by that criminal +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> +lunatic that’s been telling them all that rubbish this evening. And +they’ve <i>got</i> the brains to see through it all, that’s what makes +me so mad with them. It’s not as if they were stupid or uneducated +and <i>couldn’t</i> think for themselves. They <i>won’t</i> think.” +He stopped and drew a pipe from his pocket and began filling it and +ramming in the tobacco. “I used to think well of the upper classes +at one time. I know they are unselfish and they work hard lots of +them and do a lot of good to others but the way they’ve swallowed +all this cant about Scientific Research, the way they shut their +eyes and ears to the truth has disgusted me with them. We’ve got +regular devil-worship in England now. What these so-called scientific +chaps do in their laboratories is appalling. It’s just sheer lust of +killing and torturing, lust run wild and those fools patronise it and +<i>because</i> they patronise it, every man-jack in the Kingdom, got +to pay for it. We’ve got to struggle along and pay taxes that fellows +like this Smith-Brown may enjoy themselves wallowing in a horrible +vice. I tell you I’ve read about devil-worship in Africa and whole +communities being under the thumb of a few priests and we’ve jolly well +got exactly the same thing going on in England to-day. The health of +the country is being ruined, the blood and the brains of the people +all messed up by the filthy inoculations and vaccinations and we are +breeding more and more men with this lust in their brains for tearing +living things to pieces and those people are responsible for all this.” +He jerked his thumb in the direction of the departing motors gliding +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> +away soundlessly bearing their freights of humanity, good hearted, +kindly persons for the most part, but utterly blinded by a foolish and +fanatical belief: just as completely as the simple savage peoples of +darkest Africa are blinded by their medicine men when they order them +to gash their breasts and throw their mutilated babies into the flames.</p> + +<p>“What can we do?” pursued keen-eyes as the two men turned away into +the darkness of the wet streets. “We’re poor, we can’t do anything. We +can’t get at the public to tell it what’s going on. If we’re ill we’re +lugged off to these beastly hospitals and cut up alive, we’re forced +to send our children to school and the doctors there cut’em about as +they like, what can we do? But those people, they <i>could</i> alter +things, one of those lords owns a newspaper, if he studied the thing +up, he could set it all out in his paper and squash the whole thing. He +could show up these scientific men and what they do. He could show that +this whole craze for torturing animals was just a form of lunacy. The +nation wouldn’t support it for two minutes if it were once told what +it was. But he does nothing, he uses his paper just to help the thing +on. Then those other lords, they could speak in their House and say +outright what it was—just devil-worship—but they allow themselves to +be humbugged like all the rest of the fools.”</p> + +<p>After a pause keen-eyes started again in his quick fiery way.</p> + +<p>“What I keep on hoping is that the medical profession itself will +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> +see what a mistake they are making. Already a number of doctors have +declared themselves against experiments on animals. That’s the root +of the whole trouble. Experiments on living animals. The doctors are +wrongly trained from the beginning. The young men, the medical students +in their classes, at their lectures, see a living animal being operated +upon, being cut up, before them. Sometimes it is under an anaesthetic, +sometimes partially so, sometimes not at all. They are taught that +this is right, they are trained to cut the animal up alive themselves. +They are trained to see the animal writhing and struggling in its +helpless agonies and shown how to inflict them. These men are young +men, they are just at that age when the brain is most susceptible to +impressions, when the character is forming, when there are terrible +impulses towards evil and equally great yearnings toward good. It is +quite easy to see what an effect these classes must have upon them, +these spectacles of the living pulsating form of an animal being torn +in pieces, by an older man, who is evidently absolutely indifferent +to the horrible suffering he is causing. And this effect is evil. At +first many of these young men do feel horror at the sight, they feel +the normal sympathy everyone should feel at the sight of suffering. +Then they are jeered at by their older companions. They are told that +callous man who is sinking his knife between muscle and bone cutting +the nerves of the poor moaning victim is doing <i>right</i> and a great +man. Thus they are initiated into the devil worship. Sometimes the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> +young students overcome by the revolt of all their natural instincts +against it, faint at the revolting sight. They are carried out of the +class room and revived. By the order of the professor they are brought +back and <i>made</i> to witness the lingering torments of the animal +on the operating-table They are being hardened. Day by day they are +trained thus and gradually their normal feelings begin to change. +From sickness and revolt at the horrors they see done, they come to a +liking for them, a wish to participate in them, they become abnormal. +Their brains having been shocked at the most sensitive age, they become +deflected from their true balance. Those feelings of justice, mercy, +sympathy and pity which distinguish the worthy human being disappear +and the normal young man who commenced his medical course is at the +end of it an abnormal ill balanced creature with that impulse towards +cruelty we notice in the monkey highly developed and the qualities +of man carefully trained out of his crooked brain. And it is from +this material we make our doctors! The men we call in to treat our +beloved sick, to minister to our dear ones when dying! Heavens, what a +farce! Doctors above all men should be highly trained in sympathy and +justice. Nothing should be allowed to cloud or shock the brain of the +young medical student. A clear judgment, great power of observation, +great sympathy with all suffering, reverence for life. These are the +qualities we want in our doctors and should therefore be cultivated in +our medical students. All that is necessary for the healing of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> +human body can be learned from the careful observation of that body in +health and in sickness and in death. Anatomy can be far better taught +by cutting up the dead human body than the living animal.”</p> + +<p>He stopped and there was silence between them as they plodded on. +Jenkins felt too crushed and wretched to be able to collect his +thoughts and he knew it was not safe for him, with his ultimate object +in view, to reveal himself or his sentiments to anyone. He felt vaguely +comforted by the companionship of this other man who evidently, like +himself, knew the truth, but he dared not confide in him. He could only +listen in silence. The other did not seem to mind. He appeared to know +instinctively that Jenkins was of one mind with himself and he asked no +questions. At the corner of Oxford Street he stopped and held out his +hand.</p> + +<p>“I wait here,” he said, “my bus’ll be along presently. Goodnight, it’s +a bad business but remember this, <i>it can’t last</i>. The day will +come when this gigantic fraud on the public, this Scientific Research, +will be exposed. We mayn’t be here to see it, worse luck, for it will +take a long time but it must come. All frauds come to the same end.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins grasped his hand and wrung it, the kind keen eyes met his for +a moment. Then they had parted and Jenkins was drifting down a side +street alone with his hands driven down deep into the pockets of his +overcoat and clenched there.</p> + +<p>What <i>could</i> he do, what <i>could</i> he do to unveil this +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> +stupendous lie? To raise this flimsy curtain of a <i>name</i> and show +the filthy loathsome lust that cowered behind it. He walked and walked +desperately up one street and down another. He did not know or care +where he went. He would walk through the night and only turn up at this +loathsome work in the morning. The utter horror of the whole thing +enveloped him like a cloud and his terrible impotence in the matter +seemed like something stifling suffocating him. He believed he could +kill the doctor and so save a certain amount of horrible suffering +but that was so little against the whole mass of evil and error that +a small band of men had managed to let loose upon the world. For the +whole world was affected. This folly of blind belief in the words of +men who dubbed themselves wise and learned, beneficent and infallible, +had spread its sickly snare not over one country nor quarter but over +the whole world. Hospitals, laboratories are found everywhere and +though there were wise and thinking people also everywhere they did not +seem numerous enough nor strong enough to stop the march of Evil. Would +the day of deliverance ever come? He wondered dismally as keen-eyes had +predicted. For the present this devil-worship was all on the up-grade. +More taxes were being levied, more money thrown into the hands of the +medicine men, more hospitals being built, more research laboratories +being endowed. Jenkins wandered on through the damp, black streets +depressed to the very uttermost. That lecture had pushed him down to +the very depths of despair, just as Doctor Smith-Brown had cynically +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> +foreseen it would do. He saw that Jenkins had still some faith in the +common sense of ordinary people. The doctor determined he should attend +the lecture and see for himself how easily and completely they were +taken in and deluded. Towards morning, stiff and aching in every limb +he got back to the laboratory. It was dark and cold: fires and lights +were out and a low moaning of unutterable anguish filled the darkness. +Jenkins went heavily up the stairs to his bed, wretched beyond +description, oppressed by the wickedness of one half of the world and +the stupidity of the other half.</p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2">CHAPTER 5</p> + + +<p>Three weeks had elapsed, three weeks of dreadful mental suffering for +Jenkins and it had left its mark upon him. He was a changed man from +the one who came strong and straight, clear-eyed and tranquil-minded +from the country. He had grown pale and gaunt, he stooped a little, his +clothes hung on him loosely. Those sleepless nights when the screaming +of the animals in mortal agony rang through the whole house penetrating +even to his top room and through his blocked up ears, were draining +his strength little by little, but now his resolve once fixed and the +determination to kill the doctor, clear cut in his mind, he was less +unhappy than in those first days of astounded wondering, crumbling +beliefs and uncertainty as to where his duty lay.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span></p> + +<p>Now that the Right lay plain before him, he had only one anxiety—that +his strength would hold out until his duty was done. He walled himself +round with a solid reserve and kept his grim purpose before him night +and day. He realised that he could do very little. He knew that when +a whole nation has gone mad and determined to set up a horrible vice +in its midst and worship it, one individual has little power to avert +the madness. He had learned by now that there were these hideous +laboratories all over London that the tax-payers of England were +burdened to support them, that there were numbers of men afflicted +with the same monomania as the doctor and whose work equalled in +barbarity his though it could not exceed it. He knew all this, but in +those horrible nights hearing the beseeching cries of the tortured +animals below, he reasoned thus. Each of these scientific researchers +is responsible for killing in agony a certain number of animals. He +had heard for instance the doctor quote a French surgeon who boasted +he had done to death eight thousand dogs in his laboratory. He argued, +therefore, if he could remove even one of these dehumained human beings +from the world, he would certainly save a few thousand helpless animals +from torture and Jenkins felt that was quite worth while. Of what use +was this silly semi-demented old man who sat in his laboratory dabbling +in the blood of dogs or writing to the newspapers about ridiculous +cures he had discovered, that when tried were found to be no cures at +all, or mixing his filthy glycerine in order to cultivate his still +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> +more filthy germs in it? Jenkins, not being one of the befooled public, +saw very clearly that men like this one were not suppressing disease +but spreading it: that these laboratories were plague spots where not +new remedies, but new diseases were invented and elaborated.</p> + +<p>The doctor was quite mad, Jenkins was convinced of that and as there +seemed no way of conveying him to an asylum where he belonged it would +be well to remove him altogether from this world where he was doing so +much evil not only to the animals but to Mankind.</p> + +<p>Therefore waiting and watching for his opportunity Jenkins went quietly +day by day about his work, suffering inwardly horribly for the poor +mutilated animals he had to tend, but letting no sign of agitation or +distress appear in his sedate and stoic manner. The doctor from time +to time eyed him curiously noting with grim satisfaction the physical +changes that had taken place in his hard-working attendant. He was +quite aware that Jenkins was more or less against his work and felt +pain in seeing the tortures of the animals, and therefore his evil mind +delighted in forcing him to witness the most brutal experiments. Such +as tearing out a dog’s eyes to transplant them to another or cutting +out an ear by the roots and sewing it into the victim’s neck. He knew +also that Jenkins saw through the whole farce and that he could not +deceive his attendant as he did the easy going public, so he no longer +pretended that these experiments had any use in them. At the end of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> +a loathsome exhibition of suffering and torture which had especially +gratified his perverted sexuality, he would turn his gloating face with +its protruding eyes and saliva covered lips to Jenkins and dig him +playfully in the ribs.</p> + +<p>“Good work that, eh, Jenkins? Not exactly useful, but interesting, +eh? Let’s say <i>interesting</i>,” and Jenkins, a wooden figure with +a wooden face would stand there with the fires of just indignation +burning him to death within and exerting all his mental and moral force +to keep himself from striking down the fiend in front of him.</p> + +<p>So the days passed for the two men, shut away from the world in their +little building on the piece of waste ground by the common—playfully +for the doctor who “loved his work” as he was never tired of informing +the newspapers. He did indeed love his work and wallowed in its +atrocity as a drunkard in his cups. It was the only true thing he ever +said but that was true, he loved his work—painfully for Jenkins who +thought each night he could bear his martyrdom no longer. But at last +the end came.</p> + +<p>Jenkins had had a peculiarly sickening afternoon: dog after dog had +been taken: thrown in the vivisecting trough, wrenched and racked and +torn, its nerves stimulated, red hot irons passed through its most +sensitive parts and finally been thrown in shrieking agony into a +corner. The doctor was enjoying himself, that he loved his work was +very evident from his excited face, from which he occasionally wiped +the sweat and then resumed his task with fresh ardour. Six o’clock +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> +struck and the doctor stopped.</p> + +<p>“Done a good day’s work, I think,” he remarked. “Take ’em away, +Jenkins, kill ’em if you like. I’ve done with them. I’ll have a fresh +lot to-morrow,” and he waved his hand to the mangled heap on the stone +floor in the corner from which long gasping shivering cries were +rising. “I’m going out. Go upstairs and get your tea. I shan’t want +you again till to-morrow.” With that he turned to his dressing room +from which Jenkins knew he would soon emerge, calm, collected, bland, +immaculate, the suave man of Science that he appeared in public.</p> + +<p>Before getting his tea, Jenkins turned to see what could be done for +the poor bleeding remnants of living beings in the heap. Alas, nothing +but to quiet them in death. He bent over them despatching them as +gently and as quickly as he could and in half an hour the last poor +battered thing had expired. Just then the doctor came out smooth and +sleek and genially smiling. Well dressed as always and holding a little +paper in his hand.</p> + +<p>“I’m thinking of making a few remarks to-night on the benefit of +Vivisection. Some old faddists are getting up on their hind legs and +saying it shouldn’t be allowed, so it’s best to give the public our +usual little dose of talk.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins, sick to death, just nodded and went on with his task of +carrying out the dead bodies. Then suddenly as the lightning flashes +the moment was upon him and the whole man’s spirit sprang to attention +and every fibre within him quivered for action. On his way out the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> +doctor paused by the door of the lethal chamber and Jenkins on his +way back for another body, found him standing in the hallway sniffing +delicately about him.</p> + +<p>“There’s a queer smell here,” he remarked. “I don’t like it. Where does +it come from?”</p> + +<p>As he spoke he turned the handle, pushed open the door, of the lethal +room, and—entered. Jenkins, the blood stinging in all his veins and +a great light in his brain, moved forward. He was not conscious of +movement, only of intention. Equally without consciousness of the +action, his arm shot out, his lean fingers gripped the handle. The +brain had had standing orders given it long ago and now the moment had +come, like lightning it obeyed.</p> + +<p>The heavy door swung to and clicked. It was shut and no earthly power +could open it from within. There was no sound. Silence fell on the +laboratory. The instant the door had closed Jenkins became a different +man. The great deed for which he had lived night and day was done, +swiftly and successfully accomplished. He held his head high. His +heart swelled within him with a joyous sense of duty done just as when +he had walked out of the enlisting office in August, 1914, a soldier +proud to die for his country. So now if he had to die on the scaffold +for this night’s work he would die proudly for he knew that the work +was good. One liar, one duper of the public, one traitor to his +country, <i>one</i> monster of cruelty, if but one, had been put out of +existence. A great flood of joy seemed to engulf him and he stalked +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> +forward to the pipes and tubes to turn on the taps that let in to the +chamber the deadly gasses.</p> + +<p>It was but the work of a few minutes, for the useful chamber was +always kept in readiness by the doctor. It might be some unexpected +visitor might call at the moment when an animal was screaming under +the doctor’s fingers and then the quickest way to obtain silence was +to throw it into the lethal room out of the way before the visitor +was admitted. Of course if it were a man of Science such a precaution +was unnecessary because he would understand that the piercing cries +only meant his fellow worker was “loving his work” and pursuing it as +usual but it might be an ordinary person who called and then ordinary +people take a different view of these things and have to be humbugged +accordingly.</p> + +<p>Jenkins stalked to the tubes and turned the taps full on. There were +no merciful air holes in this chamber arranged so that the air might +mix with the burning gasses and the victim may be overcome by the +mixed fumes instead of being choked and burnt to death. No, the doctor +wouldn’t have air holes and when Jenkins had pointed out to him how +twisted and contorted the bodies were that he had to remove pointing +to the fact that a very painful death had been experienced, the doctor +had gazed at him over his cigarette smoke with a mild reflective +gaze for a few seconds and then had turned away without a word. The +air holes had never been made and a grim smile hovered for a moment +over the attendant’s impassive face as he turned on the gas and then +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> +walked away down the passage to the stairway where he sat down on the +lowest stair ... waiting, while the minutes passed. Then suddenly the +three dogs in the reserve room broke into loud and joyous barking. +Jenkins listened astonished. He had never heard them do that before. +No animal within those walls ever lifted its voice except to wail in +agony. But now? Did they know their hideous persecutor was dead? Could +they see the spirit passing? Animals have many higher gifts than man: +many instincts, many powers that are denied to him; or that he has +destroyed by his vices, which they are without. And their nearness +to the spiritual world had often struck Jenkins before. This was +extraordinary. He could hear them bounding and scuffling about in the +room giving short sharp barks of joy. Jenkins first thought was to +go in but with his hand on the door knob he paused. He had only just +lately had their dead companions in his arms. He would go and take +off his blood stained garments before meeting them, get rid of the +scent of death which they would recognize so well but he had something +to do first. He must put out of their long long suffering those poor +unfortunates that awaited in the ghastly gallery the morrow’s torture. +He switched on the lights and then entered the gallery, where the +scientist had pursued the work he loved. Jenkins could not bear to +meet the sad, glazing eyes that stared dully at him through the bars +of those cruel cages. What would he not have given to have been able +to restore the joyous healthy forms they had possessed before the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> +Scientist had cut and beaten and mangled and starved them out of all +resemblance to living creatures. But he was helpless, man can destroy +but he cannot create an animal.</p> + +<p>At last it was over. All life was extinguished and the many mangled +forms lay stretched on the cold zinc floors of their cages where they +had dragged out their existence of months and years of suffering. +Jenkins gave one glance round: his hands and feet cold but his heart +burning like a red hot coal within him.</p> + +<p>“This place justifies me,” he thought, “if anything is needed, this +place alone is my excuse.”</p> + +<p>Then he switched out the lights and death and darkness reigned supreme +in the place of agony.</p> + +<p>Coming out into the hall, he heard the joyous voices of the living dogs +and his face cleared a little of its gloom. He walked to the lethal +chamber and turned off the tap. Then he hurried up to his own little +flat and there soon had stove and lamp well alight. He washed and +changed his clothes rapidly. It was wonderful how light and strong he +felt. Some great pressure in the atmosphere was removed now that he +knew that evil thing was safely locked in the chamber below. Where had +the evil spirit gone? Jenkins did not know nor care. If it were about +in the house any where still Jenkins was not afraid of it.</p> + +<p>His conscience was so absolutely clear, his heart, his brain, all +his instincts told him he was right, that he had done well. He felt +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> +certain that any decent man watching that fiend working day by day +would have acted as he had done, if he had stayed his hand so long. +Most men in his place would have jumped on the doctor and strangled him +when he first realised what the so-called scientist really was. No good +man who knew the truth would condemn him so his heart was light and he +had no fear of the doctor’s ghost. He would have met it cheerfully and +give it some straight talk had it ventured up the stairs.</p> + +<p>But no ghost or spirit came and Jenkins hurried along over his dressing +and then made his long belated tea. Then with an armful of dog biscuits +and a great jug of milk he descended to the expectant four foots below.</p> + +<p>The lights were burning and the place looked cosy and cheery enough. +The lethal room was there solid and silent guarding well its secrets +and the welcoming bark of the dogs hearing his footsteps resounded +through the hall. Jenkins opened the door and immediately out bounded +the dogs leaping up to and caressing him. He saw at once the difference +in them. Up to now a horror and terror had seemed to brood over them: +it was in the air of the whole place, never had they ventured before +uninvited into the hall. What they smelt, what they heard in that +accursed place had told them frightful things, though Jenkins had +guarded them all he could from that knowledge.</p> + +<p>Now they capered about the hall unrestrained and leapt up at Jenkins’ +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> +side as if acclaiming him and welcoming him as their master. Jenkins, +too sad at heart for his frolicsome companion to wholly cheer, went +into their room soberly and filled all their saucers to the brim +and broke their biscuits with careful fingers. After all it was so +little that he had done! Just one of these men stopped from their +horrible work, only one out of so many. Yet little actions sometimes +had widespreading results. He wondered sadly whether by the voluntary +sacrifice of his life he could do anything, by giving himself up and +telling plainly and boldly his whole story in the dock to judge and +jury, would he accomplish anything? Would Judge and Jury listen and +believe? No, he thought not, they would be just like the lady to +whom he had restored the cat. A personal motive would be ascribed to +him for his act and Judge and Jury would only listen to the crowd of +scientists who would pack the court. They would tell the judge and jury +that animals did not feel, that when cut up alive it was done with the +greatest kindness that the vivisectors who were appointed to inspect +these places would certainly not sympathise with vivisectors working +these, that Sir Charles Smith-Brown, Dsc. M.D., L.R.C.P., etc., etc., +was the kindest man that ever breathed, that he lived only to benefit +humanity and all these lies would be believed and all this absurd +nonsense swallowed and Jenkins’ plain truth set aside and Jenkins +hanged. That would be all. As for the newspapers they would not report +a word of what Jenkins said but only what the scientists said by whom +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> +they were paid. No to keep his life if possible and gradually try to +disseminate the truth was the only way that offered any hope. There +must be some thinking men and women in England. They could not all be +maundering fools like those that sat in Parliament and babbled about +“effective inspection of laboratories” by vivisectors and voted huge +sums of money for cancer research, <i>i.e.</i>, for infecting thousands +of animals with cancer, for cultivating cancer, and thus spreading the +disease through the length and breadth of the land.</p> + +<p>No, he decided, slightly comforted, they couldn’t all be fools! There +must be some common sense left in England somewhere. He must try to +find it and appeal to it.</p> + +<p>The dogs’ supper over, he let them out for a run and then proceeded on +his rounds as usual to see all was closed for the night. There were +some letters for the doctor in the letter box and these he took out +and arranged carefully on the table under a green shaded lamp in the +doctor’s own special little study, the door of which was just opposite +the door of the lethal chamber on the other side of the hall.</p> + +<p>He turned out all the lights and locked all the outer doors except +the hall door which “the doctor would open with his latch key when he +returned.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins felt the value of knowing his story beforehand and he was +from now on going to entirely forget that the doctor’s body lay in +the lethal chamber. When it was eventually dragged out, it must be a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> +surprise to him. He had been told by the doctor that the latter was +going out and that he might go upstairs to his tea. That was at 6 +o’clock. He had availed himself of the permission and gone upstairs +leaving the doctor in the hall. He had not seen him since and when he +came down he concluded that the doctor had gone out and not returned. +That was going to be his story and he was going to act in every +particular as if were a true one. So he ranged the letters carefully +under the lamp tidied the doctor’s papers and left everything in order +for his return.</p> + +<p>At ten he went to the main door and whistled in the dogs, saw them to +their beds with many caresses, then rather wearily sought his own.</p> + +<p>But there was quiet and peace waiting for him to-night. No shrieks, no +groans, the dead and the living alike side by side slept soundly that +night in the laboratory.</p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2">CHAPTER 6</p> + + +<p>Six days had elapsed and the laboratory still stood silent without a +master. Jenkins moved about in it silently as a ghost, doing everything +exactly as he would have done had he expected the doctor’s return any +minute. He had sent the three dogs down into the country by train to +the man who kept an eye on his little cottage while he was away and +who would look after them. Inwardly he was longing for it all to be +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> +over, longing to leave this accursed spot where he had gone through +such horrible suffering. His work was all done there now. Every cage in +the long corridor had been thoroughly cleaned out: the bars polished: +the floor washed and the tiles of the corridor itself swabbed over and +rubbed to a glistening cleanliness. The doctor’s rooms were kept swept +and dusted and each day’s letters as they came in were ranged in neat +order on his writing table, with a little space between each day’s +group. The fires were lighted in the morning, the lamps lighted in the +evening.</p> + +<p>Jenkins waited up till ten o’clock each night. Then solemnly switched +off the lights and retired. He was pale and gaunt but not unhappy now, +as compared with his former days here. He had done what he could. It +was not much but it was something, and perhaps work lay ahead for him +in the future. Perhaps he could be instrumental in exposing this awful +vice, this cruel murderous lust that called itself Scientific Research. +He missed the three dogs enormously but here again he hugged himself +with pleasure in thinking they were safe and out of the way.</p> + +<p>It was just five on the Saturday evening and Jenkins was downstairs +taking his tea in the dogs’ room where he kept now his little outfit +for tea making, that he might be at hand to open the door. A ring came +and he rose at once to answer.</p> + +<p>“Sir C. Smith-Brown at home?” queried the thin-lipped young man who +stood outside.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span></p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Oh. When do you expect him back?”</p> + +<p>“Any time, sir. He has not been in this week: not since Monday evening.”</p> + +<p>“Really? I wonder where he is then. I don’t seem able to catch him +anywhere. Did he say he was going into the country or anything?”</p> + +<p>Jenkins shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No, sir. He just left on Monday about six and said he wouldn’t want me +again that day. I expected him next morning but he didn’t come and I +haven’t seem him since.”</p> + +<p>“Funny! You’ve been here all the time I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, sir, I never go out unless the doctor gives me special leave +to.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll look up Dr. Jones and see if he’s there. Thanks, good +night.”</p> + +<p>The young man departed. Jenkins closed the door and went back to the +dogs’ room where he reboiled his kettle and made himself another cup of +tea.</p> + +<p>“That’s the beginning,” he thought to himself. “Now there’ll be a +disagreeable time I expect, and after that I’ll be free I hope,” and he +smiled to himself as he thought of the rescued dogs waiting for him in +the country.</p> + +<p>Jenkins was right. The search for the doctor had begun. At nine thirty, +a longer more peremptory ring sounded through the house accompanied +by a knock. He went at once to the door. The thin-lipped young man +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> +was there but this time in company with a shortish rotund man who made +up for his insignificant stature with great pomposity of manner. As +soon as the door was opened he stepped over the threshold with a hint +of defiance in his bearing as if he expected an effort on the part of +Jenkins to keep him out and had determined it should be unsuccessful. +Jenkins inwardly amused immediately stepped back having opened the door +to its fullest extent.</p> + +<p>“This seems a serious affair about your master,” began his visitor. “He +is not at his house, he is not at his hospital, and you say he is not +here.” There was the faintest accent laid on the “you say.” Jenkins +looked gravely interested.</p> + +<p>“When did you see him last?”</p> + +<p>“Monday evening, sir, about six.”</p> + +<p>“He’s not been back since, not even looked in, eh?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, I don’t think he could have. All his letters are here.” He +stepped to the study door and threw it open, switching on the light. +The neat cosy little room stood revealed very orderly. On the table +under the green shaded lamp lay the doctor’s letters ranged in their +little groups according to the day of their arrival.</p> + +<p>The doctor’s chair was drawn toward the hearth, neatly swept up where a +small fire burnt primly.</p> + +<p>The two visitors peered into the room, the rotund Dr. Jones went up to +the table and fingered one or two of the letters as if he hoped to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> +gain information from them.</p> + +<p>“Such an exact man, such a precise man, I can’t understand his going +off like this for six days and telling nobody.”</p> + +<p>He stared hard at Jenkins who returned his gaze with a slightly +distressed expression but made no reply.</p> + +<p>“Well, I think I and my friend would like just to look through the +place,” Jones continued, his manner something between embarrassment and +aggression.</p> + +<p>“We should feel more satisfied you know and something might strike us +as a clue to his disappearance.”</p> + +<p>Jenkins assented at once.</p> + +<p>“Do, sir, will you go round alone or shall I come with you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you come along by all means,” Jones answered and the three of +them came out of the study into the hall again. Jenkins opened the +next door that of the cold long gallery where the agonized animals had +suffered such hideous miseries. Here there were no fires: the air was +deadly chill and still foul, or so it seemed to Jenkins, the electric +light fell wanly on the white walls, the lofty arched roof and the cold +glistening tiles of the floor.</p> + +<p>Jones advanced. Then stopped short with an exclamation as his eye +caught the long row of empty silent cages.</p> + +<p>“What’s this? Got rid of his animals? Why that looks as if he knew he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span> +were not coming back! What do you thing of that Edward?” he addressed +his companion.</p> + +<p>“Looks like it,” he replied laconically.</p> + +<p>“When did the doctor dispose of his animals?” asked Jones wheeling +round upon Jenkins.</p> + +<p>“He’d been using them up for some time, sir,” answered Jenkins, “and +last week he said he’d finish with all he’d got and have a fresh stock +in and I was to clean out all the cages and have them ready for a new +lot.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he said that, did he?” returned Jones. “Hm—hm—hm. Well, let’s go +on down to the end. See if he’s left a note or anything on the table.”</p> + +<p>The three men filed down the cold long room to the end where behind +the screen which helped to shut this part off from the corridor stood +the doctor’s armchair close to the hearth. The heavy writing table was +covered with papers all neatly piled and arranged. Everything was neat +and in order all most carefully dusted. The large inkstand carefully +polished and a tray of freshly nibbed pens awaited the doctor’s return. +Evidently his servant had expected him back.</p> + +<p>Dr. Jones looked disconsolately over the table. There was no note or +letter there. The last thing apparently that the doctor had written was +a chemical equation, drawn out on a half sheet of notepaper. This lay +on the blotting pad, carefully preserved by the invaluable Jenkins.</p> + +<p>Dr. Jones looked at it and then laughed. To those who know how to read +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span> +the ciphers it represented a burning solution, designed to separate +living flesh from living bone.</p> + +<p>“Well nothing here, Edward, we’ll go upstairs,” and following Jenkins, +upstairs they went. They tramped through the doctor’s comfortable +little suite above, looking in cupboards and under the bed and finding +nothing but order and extreme cleanliness everywhere.</p> + +<p>After that Jenkins’ rooms were entered and searched but the simple +furniture and narrow bed were soon looked over and under. The dog’s +room, the bathroom, the landings the little coal cellar: they searched +all most thoroughly expecting as it seemed to Jenkins to find the +doctor’s body concealed somewhere and possibly swinging behind some +door. Dr. Jones seemed to have jumped to the conclusion that it was a +case of suicide.</p> + +<p>“I can’t understand his stopping all his experiments and giving up all +the animals like that,” Jenkins heard him remark to his friend. “Looks +like suicide, ’pon my word it does.”</p> + +<p>Their search yielded nothing however and at last with a curt goodnight +to Jenkins they left, passing by the lethal chamber on their way out.</p> + +<p>“Fools,” thought Jenkins as he closed the door after them.</p> + +<p>After that there was no more tranquility at the laboratory. The +bell was frequently being rung, people came to enquire, Jenkins was +interviewed by various persons, asked the same questions over and over +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span> +again and told the same lies in answer with commendable consistency.</p> + +<p>The papers now had got hold of the story and devoted large spaces to +the mysterious disappearance of the famous scientist. Reporters came +to see Jenkins and to hear repeated the few simple sentences he could +tell them. But to these reporters he added to his story accounts of +the doctor’s doings and took the reporters in to see the vivisecting +troughs and all the ghastly instruments of torture that are the stock +in trade of the Scientific Researcher. But though they looked open eyed +and open mouthed on these gruesome objects and wandered up and down the +long gallery reading the incriminating labels on the empty cages never +a word of any of these things appeared in their reports in the papers +as Jenkins vainly hoped.</p> + +<p>In talking to them, he naturally had to preserve the stolid +indifference of manner that had been his mask so long and appear to +think all this scientific atrocity in order and he could feel that +even these light headed and unthinking young men shrank away from him +in loathing. At such times Jenkins would feel a madness of longing to +shake them by the hand and urge them to carry his message to the world +but all this he crushed down. To show the least disapprobation of the +doctor’s doings, to be anything but the servile laboratory attendant +would attract suspicion to himself, perhaps fasten the noose round his +neck. So he bore their evident contempt and disgust with himself as +he had borne all the rest of his sufferings in that place without a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> +sign and in their attitude to him he had a certain rejoicing. It gave a +glimmer of hope for the future.</p> + +<p>“Catch me giving a penny of <i>my</i> money to Cancer Research after +this,” he heard one of the men say to his companion as they went out +and his heart warmed with hope.</p> + +<p>Alas! the next morning in the very paper which had sent these two to +report there was a glowing article upon the doctor’s work, his superb +labours for humanity and all the rest of the unutterable twaddle with +which Jenkins was by now so familiar. Days passed and still nothing was +heard of the eminent scientist, the Press made all they could out of +his disappearance, it was the favorite topic of the clubs and dinner +parties. He had simply vanished and public interest and excitement +skilfully fanned by the papers waxed and grew.</p> + +<p>On the second Saturday after his disappearance just when Editors were +thinking out a new headline, the favorite Possible Clue found to +the Smith-Brown Mystery, having been rather overworked the end came +abruptly.</p> + +<p>At nine in the morning Jenkins opened the door to a small group of men +led by a man in an inconspicuous uniform.</p> + +<p>“I am a police inspector and have a warrant to search these premises.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” returned Jenkins simply. There was nothing very new in +that. “This is the doctor’s study sir,” he said, throwing open the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> +door as he had done before for Dr. Jones.</p> + +<p>The Inspector just glanced that way. Then he stepped up to the door on +the other side of the hall.</p> + +<p>“What’s this?”</p> + +<p>Jenkins turned back to him.</p> + +<p>“That’s the lethal chamber, sir.”</p> + +<p>The Inspector put his hand on the handle, turned it and pushed the +door. It resisted and as he pushed it more there was the soft heavy +sound of some inert thing being moved within.</p> + +<p>“Stand back, gentlemen, please,” he said as the little group pressed +forward, and turned his electric torch into the black aperture made +by the partially opened door. The white light gushed in and its broad +streak fell on the large head and upturned face of the doctor. Mouth +wide open as he died gasping, eyes bulging in a last grisley stare. +There was a gasp of horror from the onlookers as they drew back, a +sickly odour stealing out from the little room and enveloping them.</p> + +<p>The Inspector seemed the only man unmoved. He ordered one of his men to +support the door that it should not close and two others to follow him. +Then he went in and the three of them brought out the doctor’s body +between them into the hall and laid it down. It was horribly contorted +as if the man had died writhing.</p> + +<p>Jenkins turned away. He knew the look so well, just so all knotted +with agony, had the poor little monkeys been when he drew them out +from where they had huddled against the door or walls. The Inspector +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> +touched his arm.</p> + +<p>“This must be very painful to you,” he said kindly, touched by the +woebegone look of Jenkins’ gaunt wasted face.</p> + +<p>“We do not need you for the moment. I shall have some questions to ask +you presently but don’t stand here now. Go into the next room and sit +down.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” replied Jenkins brokenly and went.</p> + +<p>Nothing could have been better nor convinced the Inspector more +completely of his entire innocence of any participation in the doctor’s +death but it was not pose on Jenkin’s part. In truth, physically he +felt he could not stand much more of nervous strain and mentally he +felt actually crushed with grief, though it was not as the Inspector +supposed for his master, but for the countless little victims that +master had so wantonly destroyed.</p> + +<p>After a time the Inspector came to him and examined him. He questioned +him and cross-questioned him but Jenkins made no mistakes. His short +simple sentences, his direct replies, his simple manner, even his +wooden face all together produced the impression of a man, unlikely +to do anything exceptional and original. He seemed to be the typical +routine worker and wholly unconnected with the tragic event of his +master’s death.</p> + +<p>At the inquest a verdict of Death from Misadventure, the doctor having +been overcome by the old gas fumes remaining in the unventilated +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> +chamber, was returned and Jenkins after his evidence was allowed to +leave for his home, unsuspected and unopposed.</p> + +<p>Down in his tiny cottage, one evening, before a blazing fire, where his +three dogs lay extended in dozing comfort, sitting by the table with +his pot of tea beside him, he was somewhat laboriously reading a dull +newspaper until his eyes caught these astounding head lines:</p> + +<p>New Crusade for the Churches. 1,000,000 pounds appeal. Science and +Religion to co-operate.</p> + +<p>Looking through the article he gathered that clergymen in all the +churches were to preach to their congregations on the beauty and virtue +of Scientific Research and raise a million pounds to be spent upon it. +It was stated their scheme had the warm approval of the doctors. A +little lower down he came on this paragraph:</p> + +<p>“There is no more noble example of selfless service on behalf of +humanity than the men and women engaged in Research work,” and a little +lower down still these same men and women were described as “dedicated +spirits giving themselves as instruments into the hands of God, that +His Will may be done upon Earth.”</p> + +<p>After reading this Jenkins sat back in his chair and remembered the +doctor giving measles to his monkeys, filling cats with water till they +burst and infecting healthy animals with cancer which never becomes +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> +human cancer and starving dogs to give them rickets.</p> + +<p>“And the church now is going to help,” he muttered. “Good Lord and Good +Lord and Good Lord—”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote spa1"> +<p class="nindc"><b>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</b></p> + + +<p>Simple typographical errors have been silently corrected; unbalanced +quotation marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and +otherwise left unbalanced.</p> + +<p>Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant +preference was found in the original book; otherwise they were not +changed.</p> + +<p>Inconsistent hyphens left as printed.</p> +</div></div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75691 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75691-h/images/cover.jpg b/75691-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d3fc51 --- /dev/null +++ b/75691-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75691-h/images/logo.jpg b/75691-h/images/logo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a175927 --- /dev/null +++ b/75691-h/images/logo.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5dba15 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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