Harry's thoughts were disposed to go wandering that night, and he gave but a veiled and fugitive7 attention to the figures. The lake suggested other things to him brighter than all the thirty-two-power lamps of this electric light. The[Pg 178] latter, it appeared, could be in the house by September, but the other was in the house now. In any case there should be no horrors, ornamental8 or otherwise, over the sluice; and he turned to the second estimate, which included engines, with a great determination to think of nothing else.
The scene of this distracted vigil was his uncle's sitting room, where all the papers were to hand. Mr. Francis had sat up with him for half an hour or so, but Harry had then persuaded him to go to bed, for all the evening he had appeared somewhat tired and worried. Then from the next door there came, for some half hour, the faint sounds of brushings and splashings, that private orchestra of bedtime, and after that the house was still.
Harry settled down again to his work, and before long his mind was made up. He would have, he saw, to screw and pinch a little, but on no account should anything, Gothic or not, spoil the lower end of the lake; then pouring himself out some whisky and soda9, he took a last cigarette.
The table where he worked was fully10 occupied, but orderly. A row of reference books—Bradshaw, The Peerage, Whitaker's Almanac, and others—stood in a green morocco case to the left of the inkstand; to the right, in a silver frame, a large photograph of himself. Among other books, he was amused to see a Zadkiel's Almanac, and he drew it from its place and turned idly over a leaf or two. There was a cross in red ink[Pg 179] opposite the date of January 3d, on which day, so said this irresponsible seer, a discovery of gold would be made. Harry thought vaguely11 for a moment of South Africa and the Klondike, then suddenly gave a little gasp12 of surprise. That had been the day on which he had found the Luck.
The coincidence was strange, but stranger was the fact that his uncle, who had so often remonstrated13 with him on his half-laughing, half-serious notice of the coincidences which had followed its discovery, should have a Zadkiel at all; strangest that he should have noted14 this date. Then suddenly a wave of superstitious15 fear came over him, and he shut Zadkiel hastily up, for fear of seeing other dates marked. Two minutes later he was already laughing at himself, though he did not reopen Zadkiel, and as he took his candle to go to bed his eye fell on a red morocco "Where is it?" which lay on the table. He knew that there was some address he wanted to verify, but it was a few minutes before he had turned to G. There was the name "Dr. Godfrey, 32 Wimpole Street," and on each side of it minute inverted16 commas. He looked at it in some astonishment17, for he would have been ready to swear that his uncle had told him 32 Half Moon Street.
He went straight to his room, however, without wasting conjecture18 or surmise19 over this, undressed and blew out his candle. Outside, a great moon was swung high in heaven, no leaf trembled on the trees, but through the summer night the songs of many nightingales bubbled liquidly.
[Pg 180]
A few nights afterward20 he and Geoffrey were sitting alone in the house in Cavendish Square. Harry had been full of figures, wondering what was the least sum on which this London house could be made decently habitable. One room wanted a fresh paper, distemper was essential to another, most required fresh carpets, and stamped leather was imperatively21 indicated for the hall. Geoffrey listened with quiet amusement, for Harry was talking with such pellucid22 transparency that it was difficult not to smile. Then the question of electric light at Vail was touched upon, and suddenly he stopped, rose, and beat the ashes of his pipe out into the grate.
"By the way, Geoff," he said, "supposing you looked out the name of a man whom you did not know, and had only once heard of, in a 'Where is it?' belonging to a friend, and found the name in inverted commas, what inference, if any, would you draw? No, it is not a riddle23; purely24 a matter of curiosity."
Geoffrey yawned.
"Even Sherlock Holmes would not infer there," he said; "and even his friend Watson could not fail in such a perfectly25 certain conclusion."
"What conclusion?"
"Wait a moment; let us be an obtuse26 detective. Is the person from whom you have heard the name the same as the person to whom the 'Where is it?' belongs? Lord, I give points to Watson!"
[Pg 181]
"It happens that it is so. Does that influence your conclusion?"
"It only makes it even surer; no, it can't do that, but it leaves it as sure as it was. Of course, the name in the 'Where is it?' is not the man's real name; not the name he goes by, anyhow."
"So it seemed possible to me."
"Then you were wrong. There is no question of possibility. It is dealing27 with absolute certainties. Now satisfy my curiosity. I have not much, but I have some."
"Bit by bit," said Harry. "Have you ever heard of a Dr. Godfrey, heart specialist, I take it, who lives at 32 Wimpole Street?"
"Never. But Wimpole Street is just round the corner. I imagine he will have a plate on his door. I thought your heart was in a parlous28 state."
"Oh, don't be funny," said Harry, "but come along."
Geoffrey got up.
"Shall I have to hold your hand?" he asked.
"No; I am not going to consult him. Indeed, there is no mystery about the whole matter. Simply Dr. Godfrey is my uncle's doctor, and he consulted him the other day about his heart. I happened to look out the doctor's address in his 'Where is it?' and found the name in inverted commas. Oh! by the way, there is a red book by you. Look out 32 Half Moon Street. Does Dr. Godfrey live there?"
Geoffrey turned up the street.
[Pg 182]
"Certainly not," he said. "But why?"
"Nothing," said Harry, unwilling29 to mention the different address. "Come, Geoff."
They were there in less than a couple of minutes: Harry had not even put on a hat for the traversing of so few paving stones. An incandescent30 gas lamp stood just opposite the door, and both number and plate were plainly visible. On the plate in large square capitals was "Dr. G. Armytage."
They read it in silence, and turned home again. Geoffrey had pursed up his lips for a whistle, but refrained.
"We spell it Armytage, and pronounce it Godfrey," he said at length. "Sometimes we even spell it Godfrey. Or perhaps G. stands for Godfrey. Not that it makes any difference."
Harry laughed, but he was both puzzled and a little troubled. Then the remembrance of the evening when he had seen the strange and distasteful man—Dr. Armytage it must now be supposed—driving away from the house, came to his mind. How excellent and kindly31 on that occasion had been the reasons for which his uncle had desired that the visit should remain unknown to Harry! And after that lesson, should not the pupil give him credit for some motive32, unguessable even as that had been, but equally thoughtful? He had given him a wrong name and a wrong address; in his own reference book that same wrong name, but with inverted commas, appeared. Harry, being human and of discreet[Pg 183] years, did not relish33 being misled in this manner, but he told himself there might be admirable reason for it, which he could not conjecture. He had intended, it is true, to see Dr. Godfrey privately34, so as to get his first-hand opinion on his uncle's condition; but he was not at all sure that he would ring Dr. Armytage's door-bell.
Lady Oxted, a few days after this, fell a victim to influenza35, and after a decent interval36, Geoffrey, who for the remainder of the summer had let his own rooms in Orchard37 Street and lived with Harry, called on the parts of both to ask how she was, was admitted, and taken upstairs to her sitting room. Her voice was very hoarse38, a temperature thermometer lay on the table by her, and he felt himself a very foolhardy young man.
"It is no use your being afraid of it," said that lady to him by way of greeting, "because on the one hand the certain way to get it is to be afraid of it, and on the other you have to stop and talk to me. I have seen no one all day; not even Bob, as I don't want fresh cases in the house, and of course I haven't allowed Evie near me. Oh, I am reeking39 of infection: make up your mind to that."
"But I don't matter," said Geoffrey.
"Not the least scrap40. Really, it is too provoking getting it again. I believe every doctor in Wimpole Street has seen me through at least one attack. I shall begin on Cavendish Square soon. Now talk."
[Pg 184]
The thought of Dr. Armytage and the strange confusion of names and addresses had often been present in Geoffrey's mind since he and Harry had made that short and inconclusive expedition to number 32 Wimpole Street, and here, perhaps, was an opportunity for adding a brick to that vague structure that was in outline only in his mind.
"Have you tried Dr. Godfrey?" he asked.
"I never heard of him. Otherwise I should have tried him. Where does he live?"
"It is not quite certain," said Geoffrey; "personally I believe at 32 Wimpole Street."
"Is this supposed to be bright and engaging conversation?" asked Lady Oxted, "which will interest the depressed41 influenza patient?"
"It may interest you in time," said Geoffrey. "To continue, have you ever heard of a Dr. G. Armytage, heart specialist, of 32 Wimpole Street?"
The effect of this was instantaneous. Lady Oxted sat up on her sofa, and her shawl whisked the temperature thermometer to the ground, smashing the ball.
"Yes, of course I have," she said; "so have you, I imagine. Or perhaps you were not born. How detestably young, young men are!"
"They get over it," said Geoffrey.
"Yes, and become middle-aged42, which is worse. Now tell me all you know, categorically, about Dr. Armytage."
"I don't know that there is one for certain,"[Pg 185] said Geoffrey. "True, his plate is on the door. I don't know if I have a right to tell you. In any case, really, I know nothing."
Lady Oxted made an impatient gesture.
"It concerns Francis Vail, of course," she said.
Geoffrey stared.
"How did you know that?" he asked.
"I will tell you when you have finished your story," she said, "which, I may remind you, you have not yet begun."
Harry had told his friend about his chance encounter at the lodge43 gates with the doctor, and Geoffrey could pass on the story complete; Mr. Francis's silence about his visit there; his excellent reason for silence; the false name given to Harry, and, so he thought, the false address; the false name in his reference book with the Wimpole Street address; and finally their visit to the door. Lady Oxted heard him with gathering44 interest, it would appear, and long before the end she was off her sofa and walking up and down the room.
"And now for your story," said he. "How did you know that it concerned Mr. Francis?"
Lady Oxted sat down again.
"G. Armytage is Godfrey Armytage," she said, "a side point only. You have told your tale very clearly, Geoffrey. But there is one weak point in the evidence."
"Evidence? What evidence?" asked Geoffrey.
[Pg 186]
"Yes; evidence is the wrong word—chain of circumstance, if you will. The weak point is that there is no certain proof of the identity of Dr. Godfrey with Dr. Armytage. It is certain to you and me, I grant you, but still— Did Harry say what this man he met driving to the station was like?"
"'Not a canny45 man' were his words," said Geoffrey; "'dark, clean-shaven, forty, and distasteful.'"
"That is on all fours," said Lady Oxted.
"You haven't answered my question," Geoffrey reminded her.
"No—I will. Did you ever hear of the Harmsworth case—the death of Harold Harmsworth?"
"Yes. Harry told me about it."
"All? The evidence of the doctors?"
"No, not that."
"Harold Harmsworth was shot, you will remember. At the coroner's inquest the whole question naturally turned on the distance from his head at which the gun which killed him was fired. This, you will easily understand, was of the utmost importance, for if the muzzle46 of the gun was not more than, say, a yard or four feet off, it was certainly possible that he had shot himself accidentally. But imagine the gun to have been ten feet off, it becomes certain that some gun not his own shot him. Now, his head was shattered; it looked to the ordinary mind as if the injury must have been done by shot that had[Pg 187] already begun to spread—I can not speak technically47. But the doctor who maintained that the shot might easily have been fired within the shorter distances—who was responsible, in fact, for the case not going beyond the coroner—was Dr. Godfrey Armytage."
Geoffrey was silent a moment.
"Well, it is all natural enough," he said at length, "Mr. Francis, on your own showing, has probably known the man for a long time; it is natural also that he did not wish to tell Harry his real name, for it was connected with that dreadful tragedy. It is also natural, if Dr. Armytage is an eminent48 man, that he should wish to consult a doctor he knew about his condition. Why not?"
"For this reason," said Lady Oxted: "Dr. Armytage is not a heart specialist any more than you or I. He is a surgeon, and not a very reputable one. I needn't go into details. But it would be as sensible to go to him, if you suffered from the heart, as to go to a cabinetmaker."
Geoffrey frowned.
"What does it all mean?" he asked sharply.
"I have no idea at all," said Lady Oxted. "Probably it means nothing. Things seldom do. In any case, say nothing to Harry."
Tea came in at this moment, and they talked of other matters till the man had left the room. Then:
"One thing more," said Lady Oxted, "and the last. I hardly like to say to you that I suspect nothing and nobody, because that sounds as[Pg 188] if there was possibly something to suspect. There is nothing. But this is a curious circumstance, and it has interested me."
Geoffrey walked back to Cavendish Square, feeling vaguely sombre and depressed. A tepid49 drizzle50 of rain was falling, making the pavement slippery; the air was hot and thundery, suggestive of expectancy51 and unrest, and this accentuated52 his mood. He had no clew of any kind as to what these secret dealings could possibly mean, and nothing that his ingenuity53 could suggest was even a faintly satisfactory solution.
Every moment the sky seemed to be pressing more heavily on to the earth, and it was as if the very tightness of the air prevented the breaking of the storm. By the time he had reached Cavendish Square a faint, thick twilight54 showed overhead, the drizzle of rain had ceased, and only a few large drops fell sparingly. He let himself in with his latchkey, and found himself immediately face to face with Harry, who was just coming out. And at the sight of him he suddenly felt that his vague fear was going to be at once realized, for in his eyes sat a miserable55 despair.
"Harry! Harry! what is the matter?" he cried.
Harry did not look at him.
"Nothing," he said. "Where have you been?"
"Sitting with Lady Oxted."
"Then perhaps she will see me. She is better, I suppose. Tell me, Geoff," and he fidgeted[Pg 189] with the door handle, "did you see Miss Aylwin?"
"No. Lady Oxted does not allow her to come to her room, for fear of her getting the influenza."
"Thanks. I shall be back for dinner, I expect. But don't wait," and he opened the door.
Geoffrey laid his hand on his arm.
"You are not going to do anything foolish, Harry?" he asked, in a sudden vague spasm56 of alarm.
"No, you idiot! Let me go."
"Is there nothing I can do?" he asked.
"Nothing, thanks."
Geoffrey went into the smoking room and sat down in a bewilderment of distress57 and anxiety. What could possibly have happened? he asked himself. If anything had gone wrong at Vail, if Mr. Francis, to imagine the worst, had even died suddenly, surely Harry would have told him. Then why did he wish to see Lady Oxted, but apparently58 not wish to see Miss Aylwin? For the moment he thought there might be a light here: it was conceivable that he had proposed to her and been refused. But when, where? For Geoffrey had left him not two hours ago in his accustomed good spirits. Again, if he had ever felt certain of anything, it was that, unless the girl was the most infernal and finished flirt59 ever made for the undoing60 of man, the attraction between the two was deep and mutual61. And no girl had ever seemed to him less like a flirt than Evie.[Pg 190] Even if this was so, why should Harry at once wish to go to Lady Oxted? These things had no answer; there was nothing to do but wait, wait drearily62, and listen to the hiss63 of the faster-falling rain.
Harry drove to Grosvenor Square through the blinking lightning, and was shown up. Like Geoffrey, Lady Oxted was appalled64 at that drawn65 and haggard face; like Geoffrey, too, the question whether Evie had refused him suggested itself to her, but was instantly rejected.
"My dear boy, what is the matter?" she cried. "Have you bad news from Vail?"
Harry took a letter from his pocket, and folded it down so as to leave some ten lines of large, legible hand for her to read.
"Will you read that?" he said, giving it her.
She took it from him, and he sat down in the window.
"... must prepare yourself," it ran, "for a great shock. I saw with such pleasure your intimacy66 with Miss Aylwin, and I know—I am afraid I know—what you hoped. Harry, dear boy, you must not allow yourself any fond feelings there. She is already engaged, so I heard this morning, from a friend near Santa Margarita, to a young Italian marchese. So make a great effort, and cut her out of your life with a brave and unfaltering hand. She has treated you ..." and the exposed page ended.
Lady Oxted read it through, and tossed it back to Harry.
[Pg 191]
"There is not a word of truth in it," she said; "though it is true enough that a certain Italian marchese, not very young, fell in love with her last winter, and was refused. I suppose your correspondent has got hold of some muddled67 version of that."
Harry was white to the lips, but a gleam had returned to his eye.
"Are you sure?" he asked tremulously. "Are you quite sure? I trust very deeply the person who wrote this letter."
"I don't pretend not to guess whom it is from," said Lady Oxted, "but I am quite sure. If you don't believe me, ask Evie herself. Indeed," she added, looking suddenly at him, "I think that would be a most excellent plan, Harry."
Harry got up. There was no mistaking this, and Lady Oxted had not meant that there should be. Only last night she had told her husband that the two had been philandering68 quite long enough, and announced her intention of pushing Harry over the edge as quickly as possible. Her opportunity had not delayed its coming, and she meant to use it.
"Where is she?" asked Harry, almost in a whisper; "perhaps, perhaps——"
"She has just come in," said Lady Oxted, feeling a violent desire to take Harry by the scruff of the neck and hurl69 him into Evie's presence; "she is in the drawing-room."
"Alone?" asked Harry.
"I don't know. Go and see."
Harry hesitated no longer, but left the room. Lady Oxted heard his step first of all slow on the stairs, then gradually quickening, and it would seem that he took the last six steps in a jump.
Evie was alone when he entered, seated at the far end of the room—ten miles away, it seemed to him. He felt his head swim, his knees were unloosed, his mouth was dry, and his heart hammered creakily in his throat. Then he raised his eyes again, and met her glance. And at that his courage coursed back like wine in his veins70; she flooded and overflowed71 his heart; he was lost in an amazement72 of love, a man again. In two steps he covered those ten miles.
"You told me to aim at being the King of England," he said. "I have aimed far higher, and I have come to you for the crown."
Then no word was said at all about the Italian marchese, no longer young.
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1
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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utilize
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| vt.使用，利用 | |
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sluice
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| n.水闸 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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5
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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imperatively
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| adv.命令式地 | |
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pellucid
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| adj.透明的，简单的 | |
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riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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obtuse
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dealing
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parlous
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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influenza
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| n.流行性感冒，流感 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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middle-aged
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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canny
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| adj.谨慎的，节俭的 | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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technically
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| adv.专门地，技术上地 | |
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eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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tepid
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| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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52
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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55
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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58
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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59
flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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65
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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68
philandering
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| v.调戏，玩弄女性( philander的现在分词 ) | |
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hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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