entirely good.”
Percy Roden, who had been to Utrecht and Antwerp, arrived home on the evening of the day that saw Lord Ferriby's advent2 to The Hague. Though the day had been fine enough, the weather broke up at sunset, and great clouds chased the sun towards the west. Then the rain came suddenly and swept across the plains in a slanting3 fury. A cold wind from the south-east followed hard upon the heavy clouds, and night came in a chaos4 of squall and beating rain. Roden was drenched5 in his passage from the carriage to the Villa6 des Dunes7, which, being a summer residence, had not been provided with a carriage-drive across the dunes from the road. He looked at his sister with tired eyes when she met him in the entrance-hall. He was worn and thinner than she had seen him in the days of his adversity, for Percy Roden, like his partner, had made several false starts upon the road to fortune before he got well away. Like many—like, indeed, nearly all—who have to try again, he had lightened himself of a scruple8 or so each time he turned back. Prosperity, however, seems to kill as many as adversity. Abundant wealth is a vexation of spirit to-day as surely as it was in the time of that wise man who, having tried it, said that a stranger eateth it, and it is vanity.
“Beastly night,” said Roden, and that was all. He had been to Antwerp on banking9 business, and had that sleepless10 look which brings a glitter to the eyes. This was a man handling great sums of money. “Von Holzen been here to-day?” he asked, when he had changed his clothes, and they were seated at the dinner-table.
“No,” answered Dorothy, with her eyes on his plate.
He was eating little, and drank only mineral water from a stone bottle. He was like an athlete in training, though the strain he sought to meet was mental and not physical. He shivered more than once, and glanced sharply at the door when the maid happened to leave it open.
When Dorothy went to the drawing-room she lighted the fire, which was ready laid, and of wood. Although it was nearly midsummer, the air was chilly12, and the rain beat against the thin walls of the house.
“I think it probable,” Roden had said, before she left the dining-room, “that Von Holzen will come in this evening.”
She sat down before the fire, which burnt briskly, and looked into it with thoughtful, clever grey eyes. Percy thought it probable that Von Holzen would come to the Villa des Dunes this evening. Would he come? For Percy knew nothing of the organized attempt on Cornish's life which she herself had frustrated13. He seemed to know nothing of the grim and silent antagonism14 that existed between the two men, shutting his eyes to their movements, which were like the movements of chess-players that the onlooker15 sees but does not understand. Dorothy knew that Von Holzen was infinitely16 cleverer than her brother. She knew, indeed, that he was cleverer than most men. With the quickness of her sex, she had long ago divined the source and basis of his strength. He was indifferent to women—who formed no part of his life, who entered in no way into his plans or ambitions. Being a woman, she should, theoretically, have disliked and despised him for this. As a matter of fact, the characteristic commanded her respect.
She knew that her brother was not in Von Holzen's confidence. It was probable that no man on earth had ever come within measurable distance of that. He would, in all likelihood, hear nothing of the attempt to kill Cornish, and Cornish himself would be the last to mention it. For she knew that her lover was a match for Von Holzen, and more than a match. She had never doubted that. It was a part of her creed17. A woman never really loves a man until she has made him the object of a creed. And it is only the man himself who can—and in the long run usually does—make it impossible for her to adhere to her belief.
She was still sitting and thinking over the fire when her brother came into the room.
“Ah!” he said at the sight of the fire, and came forward, holding out his hands to the blaze. He looked down at his sister with glittering and unsteady eyes. He was in a dangerous humour—a humour for explanations and admissions—to which weak natures sometimes give way. And, looking at the matter practically and calmly, explanations and admissions are better left—to the hereafter. But Von Holzen saved him by ringing the front-door bell at that moment.
The professor came into the room a minute later. He stood in the doorway18, and bowed in the stiff German way to Dorothy. With Roden he exchanged a curt19 nod. His hair was glued to his temples by the rain, which gleamed on his face.
“It is an abominable20 night,” he said, coming forward. “Ach, Fr?ulein, please do not leave us—and the fire,” he added; for Dorothy had risen. “I merely came to make sure that he had arrived safely home.” He took the chair offered to him by Roden, and sat on it without bringing it forward. He had but little of that self-assurance which is so highly cultivated to-day as to be almost offensive. “There are, of course, matters of business,” he said, “which can wait till to-morrow. To-night you are tired.” He looked at Roden as a doctor may look at a patient. “Is it not so, Fr?ulein?” he asked, turning to Dorothy.
“Yes.”
“Except one or two—which we may discuss now.”
Dorothy turned and glanced at him. He was looking at her, and their eyes met for a moment. He seemed to see something in her face that made him thoughtful, for he remained silent for some time, while he wiped the rain from his face with his pocket-handkerchief. It was a pale, determined22 face, which could hardly fail to impress those with whom he came in contact as the face of a strong man.
“Lord Ferriby has been at the works to-day,” he said; and then, with a gesture of the hands and a shrug23, he described Lord Ferriby as a nonentity24. “He went through the works, and looked over your books. I wrote out a sort of certificate of his satisfaction with both, and—he signed it.”
Roden was leaning forward over the fire with a cigarette between his lips. He nodded shortly. “Good,” he said.
“Yesterday,” continued Von Holzen, “I met an old acquaintance—a Miss Wade25—one of the young ladies of a Pensionnat at Dresden, in which I taught at one time. She is a daughter of the banker Wade, and told me, reluctantly, that she is at The Hague with her father—a friend of Cornish's. This morning I took a walk on the sands at Scheveningen; there was a large fat man, among others, bathing at the Northern bathing-station. It was Major White. It is a regular gathering26 of the clans27. I saw a German paper-maker28—a big man in the trade—on the Kursaal terrace this morning. It may be a mere21 chance, and it may not.”
As he spoke29 he had withdrawn30 from his pocket a folded paper, which he was fingering thoughtfully. Dorothy, who knew that she had by her looks unwittingly warned him, made no motion to go now. He would say nothing that he did not deliberately31 intend for her ears as much as for her brother's. Von Holzen opened the paper slowly, and looked at it as if every line of it was familiar. It was a sheet of ordinary foolscap covered with minute figures and writing.
“It is the Vorschrift, the—how do you say?—prescription32 for the malgamite, and there are several in The Hague at this moment who want it, and some who would not be too scrupulous33 in their methods of procuring34 it. It is for this that they are gathering—here in The Hague.”
Roden turned in his leisurely35 way, and looked over his shoulder towards the paper. Von Holzen glanced at Dorothy. He had no desire to keep her in suspense36, but he wished to know how much she knew. She looked into the fire, treating his conversation as directed towards her brother only.
“I tried for ten years in vain to get this,” continued Von Holzen, “and at last a dying man dictated37 it to me. For years it lived in the brain of one man only—and he a maker of it himself. He might have died at any moment with that secret in his head. And I,”—he folded the paper slowly and shrugged38 his shoulders—“I watched him. And the last intelligible39 word he spoke on earth was the last word of this prescription. The man can have been no fool; for he was a man of little education. I never respected him so much as I do now when I have learnt it myself.” He rose and walked to the fire. “You permit me, Fr?ulein,” he said, putting the logs together with his foot.
They burnt up brightly, and he threw the paper upon them. In a moment it was reduced to ashes. He turned slowly upon his heel, and looked at his companions with the grave smile of one who had never known much mirth.
“There,” he said, touching40 his forehead, with one finger; “it is in the brain of one man—once more.” He returned to the chair he had just vacated. “And whosoever wishes to stop the manufacture of malgamite will need to stop that brain,” he said, with a soft laugh. “Of course there is a risk attached to burning that paper,” he continued, after a pause. “My brain may go—a little clot11 of blood no bigger than a pin's head, and the greatest brain on earth is so much pulp41! It may be worth some one's while to kill me. It is so often worth some one's while to kill somebody else, even at a considerable risk—but the courage is nearly always lacking. However, we must run these risks.”
He rose from his chair with a low and rather pleasant laugh, glancing at the clock as he did so. It was evidently his intention to take his leave. Dorothy rose also, and they stood for a moment facing each other. He was a few inches above her stature42, and he looked down at her with his slow, thoughtful eyes. He seemed always to be making a diagnosis43 of the souls of men.
“I know, Fr?ulein,” he said, “That you are one of those who dislike me, and seek to do me harm. I am sorry. It is long since I discarded a youthful belief that it was possible to get on in life without arousing ill feeling. Believe me, it is impossible even to hold one's own in this world without making enemies. There are two sides to every question, Fr?ulein—remember that.”
He brought his heels together, bowed stiffly, from the waist, in his formal manner, and left the room. Percy Roden followed him, leaving the door open. Dorothy heard the rustle44 of his dripping waterproof45 as he put it on, the click of the door, the sound of his firm retreating tread on the gravel46. Then her brother came back into the room. His rather weak face was flushed. His eyes were unsteady. Dorothy saw this in a glance, and her own face hardened unresponsively. The situation was clearly enough defined in her own mind. Von Holzen had destroyed the prescription before her on purpose. It was only a move in that game of life which is always extending to a new deal, and of which women as onlookers47 necessarily see the most. Von Holzen wished Cornish, and others concerned, to know that he had destroyed the prescription. It was a concession48 in disguise—a retrograde movement—perhaps pour mieux sauter.
Percy Roden was one of those men who have a grudge49 against the world. The most hopeless ill-doer is he who excuses himself angrily. There are some who seem unconscious of their own failings, and for these there is hope. They may some day find out that it is better to be at peace with the world even at the cost of a little self-denial. But Percy Roden admitted that he was wrong, and always had that sort of excuse which seeks to lay the blame upon a whole class—upon other business men, upon those in authority, upon women.
“It is excused in others, why not in me?”—the last cry of the ne'er-do-well.
He glanced angrily at Dorothy now. But he was always half afraid of her.
“I wish we had never come to this place,” he said.
“Then let us go away from it,” answered Dorothy, “before it is too late.”
Roden looked at her in surprise. Did she expect him to go away now from Mrs. Vansittart? He knew, of course, that Dorothy and the world always expected too much from him.
“Before it is too late. What do you mean?” he asked, still thinking of Mrs. Vansittart.
“Before the Malgamite scheme is exposed,” replied Dorothy, bluntly. And, to her surprise, he laughed.
“I thought you meant something else,” he said. “The Malgamite scheme can look after itself. Von Holzen is the cleverest man I know, and he knows what he is doing. I thought you meant Mrs. Vansittart—were thinking of her.”
“No, I was not thinking of Mrs. Vansittart.”
“Not worth thinking about,” suggested Roden, adhering to his method of laughing for fear of being laughed at, which is common enough in very young men; but Roden should have outgrown50 it by this time.
“Not seriously.”
“What do you mean, Dorothy?”
“That I hope you do not think seriously of asking Mrs. Vansittart to marry you.”
Roden gave his rather unpleasant laugh again. “It happens that I do,” he replied. “And it happens that I know that Mrs. Vansittart never stays in The Hague in summer when all the houses are empty and everybody is away, and the place is given up to tourists, and becomes a mere annex51 to Scheveningen. This year she has stayed—why, I should like to know.”
And he stroked his moustache as he looked into the fire. He had been indulging in the vain pleasure of putting two and two together. A young man's vanity—or indeed any man's vanity—is not to be trusted to work out that simple addition correctly. Percy Roden was still in a dangerously exalted52 frame of mind. There is no intoxication53 so dangerous as that of success, and none that leaves so bitter a taste behind it.
“Of course,” he said, “no girl ever thinks that her brother can succeed in such a case. I suppose you dislike Mrs. Vansittart?”
“No; I like her, and I understand her, perhaps better than you do. I should like nothing better than that she should marry you, but——”
“But what?”
“Well, ask her,” replied Dorothy—a woman's answer.
“And then?”
“And then let us go away from here.”
Roden turned on her angrily. “Why do you keep on repeating that?” he cried. “Why do you want to go away from here?”
“Because,” replied Dorothy, as angry as himself, “you know as well as I do that the Malgamite scheme is not what it pretends to be. I suppose you are making a fortune and are dazzled, or else you are being deceived by Herr von Holzen, or else——”
“Or else——” echoed Roden, with a pale face. “Yes—go on.” But she bit her lip and was silent. “It is an open secret,” she went on after a pause. “Everybody knows that it is a disgrace or worse—perhaps a crime. If you have made a fortune, be content with what you have made, and clear yourself of the whole affair.”
“Not I.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am going to make more. And I am going to marry Mrs. Vansittart. It is only a question of money. It always is with women. And not one in a hundred cares how the money is made.”
Which, of course, is not true; for no woman likes to see her husband's name on a biscuit or a jam-pot.
“Of course,” went on Percy, in his anger. “I know which side you take, since you are talking of open secrets. At any rate, Von Holzen knows yours—if it is a secret—for he has hinted at it more than once. You think that it is I who have been deceived or who deceive myself. You are just as likely to be wrong. You place your whole faith in Cornish. You think that Cornish cannot do wrong.”
Dorothy turned and looked at him. Her eyes were steady, but the color left her face, as if she were afraid of what she was about to say.
“Yes,” she said. “I do.”
“And without a moment's hesitation,” went on Roden, hurriedly, “you would sacrifice everything for the sake of a man you had never seen six months ago?”
“Yes.”
“Even your own brother?”
“Yes,” answered Dorothy.
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1
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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dunes
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| 沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
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scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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clot
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| n.凝块；v.使凝成块 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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onlooker
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| n.旁观者，观众 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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nonentity
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| n.无足轻重的人 | |
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wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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procuring
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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diagnosis
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| n.诊断，诊断结果，调查分析，判断 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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waterproof
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| n.防水材料；adj.防水的；v.使...能防水 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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onlookers
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| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
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concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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50
outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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annex
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| vt.兼并，吞并；n.附属建筑物 | |
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52
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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