After an eventful night Mr. Prohack woke up late to breakfast in bed. Theoretically he hated breakfast in bed, but in practice he had recently found that the inconveniences to himself were negligible compared to the intense and triumphant1 pleasure which his wife took in seeing him breakfast in bed, in being fully2 dressed while he was in pyjamas3 and dressing4-gown, and in presiding over the meal and over him. Recently Marian had formed the habit of rising earlier and appearing to be very busy upon various minute jobs at an hour when, a few weeks previously5, she would scarcely have decided6 that day had given place to night. Mr. Prohack, without being able precisely7 to define it, thought that he understood the psychology8 of the change in this unique woman. Under ordinary circumstances he would have been worried by his sense of fatigue9, but now, as he had nothing whatever to do, he did not much care whether he was tired or not. Neither the office nor the State would suffer through his lack of tone.
The events of the night had happened exclusively inside Mr. Prohack's head. Nor were they traceable to the demeanour of his wife when he returned home from the studio. She had mysteriously behaved to him as though nocturnal excursions to disgraceful daughters in remote quarters of London were part of his daily routine. She had been very sweet and very incurious. Whereon Mr. Prohack had said to himself: "She has some diplomatic reason for being an angel." And even if she had not been an angel, even if she had been the very reverse of an angel, Mr. Prohack would not have minded, and his night would not have been thereby10 upset; for he regarded her as a beautiful natural phenomenon is regarded by a scientist, lovingly and wonderingly, and he was incapable11 of being irritated for more than a few seconds by anything that might be done or said by this forest creature of the prime who had strayed charmingly into the twentieth century. He was a very fortunate husband.
No! The eventfulness of the night originated in reflection upon the relations between Sissie and Ozzie Morfey. If thoughts could take physical shape and solidity, the events of the night would have amounted to terrible collisions and catastrophes12 in the devil-haunted abysses of Mr. Prohack's brain. The forces of evil were massacring all opponents between three and four a.m. It was at this period Mr. Prohack was convinced that Sissie, in addition to being an indescribably heartless daughter, was a perfect fool hoodwinked by a perfect ass13, and that Ozzie's motive14 in the affair was not solely15 or chiefly admiration16 for Sissie, but admiration of the great fortune which, he had learnt, had fallen into the lap of Sissie's father. After five o'clock, according to the usual sequence, the forces of evil lost ground, and at six-thirty, when the oblong of the looking-glass glimmered17 faintly in the dawn, Mr. Prohack said roundly: "I am an idiot," and went to sleep.
"Now, darling," said Eve when he emerged from the bathroom. "Don't waste any more time. I want you to give me your opinion about something downstairs."
"Child," said Mr. Prohack. "What on earth do you mean—'wasting time'? Haven't you insisted, and hasn't your precious doctor insisted, that I must read the papers for an hour in bed after I've had my breakfast in bed? Talk about 'wasting time' indeed!"
"Yes, of course darling," Eve concurred19, amazingly angelic. "I don't mean you've been wasting time; only I don't want you to waste any more time."
"My mistake," said Mr. Prohack.
From mere18 malice20 and wickedness he spun21 out the business of dressing to nearly its customary length, and twice Eve came uneasily into the bedroom to see if she could be of assistance to him. No nurse could have been so beautifully attentive22. During one of her absences he slipped furtively23 downstairs into the drawing-room, where he began to strum on the piano, though the room was yet by no means properly warm. She came after him, admirably pretending not to notice that he was behaving unusually. She was attired24 for the street, and she carried his hat and his thickest overcoat.
"You're coming out," said she, holding up the overcoat cajolingly.
"That's just where you're mistaken," said he.
"But I want to show you something."
"What do you want to show me?"
"You shall see when you come out."
"Is it by chance the bird of the mountains that I am to see?"
"The bird of the mountains? My dear Arthur! What are you driving at now?"
"Is it the Eagle car?" And as she staggered speechless under the blow he proceeded: "Ah! Did you think you could deceive me with your infantile conspiracies25 and your tacit deceits and your false smiles?"
She blushed.
"Some one's told you. And I do think it's a shame!"
"And who should have told me? Who have I seen? I suppose you think I picked up the information at Putney last night. And haven't you opened all my letters since I was ill, on the pretext26 of saving me worry? Shall I tell you how I know? I knew from your face. Your face, my innocent, can't be read like a book. It can be read like a newspaper placard, and for days past I've seen on it, 'Extra special. Exciting purchase of a motor-car by a cunning wife.'" Then he laughed. "No, chit. That fellow Oswald Morfey, let it out last night."
When she had indignantly enquired27 how Oswald Morfey came to be mixed up in her private matters, she said:
"Well, darling, I hope I needn't tell you that my sole object was to save you trouble. The car simply had to be bought, and as quickly as possible, so I did it. Need I tell you—"
"You needn't, certainly," Mr. Prohack agreed, and going to the window he lifted the curtain. Yes. There stood a real car, a landaulette, with the illustrous eagle on the front of its radiator28, and a real chauffeur29 by its side. The thing seemed entirely30 miraculous31 to Mr. Prohack; and he was rather impressed by his wife's daring and enterprise. After all, it was somewhat of an undertaking32 for an unworldly woman to go out alone into the world and buy a motor-car and engage a chauffeur, not to mention clothing the chauffeur. But Mr. Prohack kept all his imperturbability33.
"Isn't it lovely?"
"Is it paid for?"
"Oh, no!"
"Didn't you have to pay any deposit?"
"Of course I didn't. I gave your name, and that was sufficient. We needn't keep it if we don't like it after the trial run."
"And is it insured?"
"Of course, darling."
"And what about the licence?"
"Oh! The Eagle Company saw to all those stupid things for me."
"And how many times have you forged my signature while I've been lying on a bed of pain?"
"The fact is, darling, I made the purchase in my own name. Now come along. We're going round the park."
The way she patted his overcoat when she had got it on to him...! The way she took him by the hand and pulled him towards the drawing-room door...! She had done an exceedingly audacious deed, and her spirits rose as she became convinced from his demeanour that she had not pushed audacity34 too far. (For she was never absolutely sure of him.)
"Wait one moment," said Mr. Prohack releasing himself and slipping back to the window.
"What's the matter?"
"Arthur!"
"You're sure he's quite human?" Mrs. Prohack closed the piano, and then stamped her foot.
"Listen," said Mr. Prohack. "I'm about to trust my life to the mysterious being inside that uniform. Did you imagine that I would trust my life to a perfect stranger? In another half hour he and I may be lying in hospital side by side. And I don't even know his name! Fetch him in, my dove, and allow me to establish relations with him. But confide36 to me his name first." The expression on Mrs. Prohack's features was one of sublime37 forbearance under ineffable38 provocation39.
"This is Carthew," she announced, bringing the chauffeur into the drawing-room.
Carthew was a fairly tall, fairly full-bodied, grizzled man of about forty; he carried his cap and one gauntleted glove in one gloved hand, and his long, stiff green overcoat slanted40 down from his neck to his knees in an unbroken line. He had the impassivity of a policeman.
"Good morning, Carthew," Mr. Prohack began, rising. "I thought that you and I would like to make one another's acquaintance."
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Prohack held out his hand, which Carthew calmly took.
"Will you sit down?"
"Thank you, sir."
"Have a cigarette?" Carthew hesitated.
"Do you mind if I have one of my own, sir?"
"These are Virginian."
"Oh! Thank you, sir." And Carthew took a cigarette from Mr. Prohack's case.
"Light?"
"After you, sir."
"No, no."
"Thank you, sir."
Carthew coughed, puffed41, and leaned back a little in his chair. At this point Mrs. Prohack left the room. (She said afterwards that she left the room because she couldn't have borne to be present when Carthew's back broke the back of the chair.)
Carthew sat silent.
"Well," said Mr. Prohack. "What do you think of the car? I ought to tell you I know nothing of motors myself, and this is the first one I've ever had."
"The Eagle is a very good car, sir. If you ask me I should say it was light on tyres and a bit thirsty with petrol. It's one of them cars as anybody can drive—if you understand what I mean. I mean anybody can make it go. But of course that's only the beginning of what I call driving."
"Just so," agreed Mr. Prohack, drawing by his smile a very faint smile from Carthew. "My son seems to think it's about the best car on the market."
"Well, sir, I've been mixed up with cars pretty well all my life—I mean since I was twenty—"
"Have you indeed!"
"I have, sir—" Carthew neatly42 flicked43 some ash on the carpet, and Mr. Prohack thoughtfully did the same—"I have, sir, and I haven't yet come across the best car on the market, if you understand what I mean."
"Perfectly," said Mr. Prohack.
Carthew sat silent.
"But it's a very good car. Nobody could wish for a better. I'll say that," he added at length.
"Had many accidents in your time?"
"I've been touched, sir, but I've never touched anything myself. You can have an accident while you're drawn44 up alongside the kerb. It rather depends on how many fools have been let loose in the traffic, doesn't it, sir, if you understand what I mean."
"Exactly," said Mr. Prohack.
Carthew sat silent.
"I gather you've been through the war," Mr. Prohack began again.
"I was in the first Territorial45 regiment46 that landed in France, and I got my discharge July 1919."
"Wounded?"
"Well, sir, I've been blown up twice and buried once and pitched into the sea once, but nothing ever happened to me."
"I see you don't wear any ribbons."
"It's like this, sir. I've seen enough ribbons on chests since the armistice47. It isn't as if I was one of them conscripts."
"No," murmured Mr. Prohack thoughtfully; then brightening: "And as soon as you were discharged you went back to your old job?"
"I did and I didn't, sir. The fact is, I've been driving an ambulance for the City of London, but as soon as I heard of something private I chucked that. I can't say as I like these Corporations. There's a bit too much stone wall about them Corporations, for my taste."
"Family man?" asked Mr. Prohack lightly. "I've two children myself and both of them can drive."
"Really, sir, I am a family man, as ye might say, but my wife and me, we're best apart."
"Sorry to hear that. I didn't want to—"
"Oh, not at all, sir! That's all right. But you see—the war—me being away and all that—I've got the little boy. He's nine."
"Well," said Mr. Prohack, jumping up nervously48, "suppose we go and have a look at the car, shall we?"
"Certainly, sir," said Carthew, throwing the end of his cigarette into the fender, and hastening.
"My dove," said Mr. Prohack to his wife in the hall. "I congratulate you on your taste in chauffeurs49. Carthew and I have laid the foundations of a lasting50 friendship."
"I really wonder you asked him to smoke in the drawing-room," Mrs. Prohack critically observed.
"Why? He saved England for me; and now I'm trusting my life to him."
"I do believe you'd like there to be a revolution in this country."
"Not at all, angel! And I don't think there'll be one. But I'm taking my precautions in case there should be one."
"He's only a chauffeur."
"That's very true. He was doing some useful work, driving an ambulance to hospitals. But we've stopped that. He's now only a chauffeur to the idle rich."
"Oh, Arthur! I wish you wouldn't try to be funny on such subjects. You know you don't mean it."
Mrs. Prohack was now genuinely reproachful, and the first conjugal51 joy-ride might have suffered from a certain constraint52 had it taken place. It did not, however, take place. Just as Carthew was holding out the rug (which Eve's prodigious53 thoroughness had remembered to buy) preparatory to placing it on the knees of his employers, a truly gigantic automobile54 drove up to the door, its long bonnet55 stopping within six inches of the Eagle's tail-lantern. The Eagle looked like nothing at all beside it. Mr. Prohack knew that leviathan. He had many times seen it in front of the portals of his principal club. It was the car of his great club crony, Sir Paul Spinner, the "city magnate."
Sir Paul, embossed with carbuncles, got out, and was presently being presented to Eve,—for the friendship between Mr. Prohack and Sir Paul had been a purely56 club friendship. Like many such friendships it had had no existence beyond the club, and neither of the cronies knew anything of real interest about the domestic circumstances of the other. Sir Paul was very apologetic to Eve, but he imperiously desired an interview with Mr. Prohack at once. Eve most agreeably and charmingly said that she would take a little preliminary airing in the car by herself, and return for her husband. Mr. Prohack would have preferred her to wait for him; but, though Eve was sagacious enough at all normal times, when she got an idea into her head that idea ruthlessly took precedence of everything else in the external world. Moreover the car was her private creation, and she was incapable of resisting its attractions one minute longer.
II
"I hear you've come into half a million, Arthur," said Paul Spinner, after he had shown himself very friendly and optimistic about Mr. Prohack's health and given the usual bulletin about his own carbuncles and the shortcomings of the club.
"But you don't believe it, Paul."
"I don't," agreed Paul. "Things get about pretty fast in the City and we can size them up fairly well; and I should say, putting two and two together, that a hundred and fifty thousand would be nearer the mark."
"It certainly is," said Mr. Prohack.
If Paul Spinner had suggested fifty thousand, Mr. Prohack would have corrected him, but being full of base instincts he had no impulse to correct the larger estimate, which was just as inaccurate57.
"Well, well! It's a most romantic story and I congratulate you on it. No such luck ever happened to me." Sir Paul made this remark in a tone to indicate that he had had practically no luck himself. And he really believed that he had had no luck, though the fact was that he touched no enterprise that failed. Every year he signed a huger cheque for super-tax, and every year he signed it with a gesture signifying that he was signing his own ruin.
This distressing58 illusion of Sir Paul's was probably due to his carbuncles, which of all pathological phenomena59 are among the most productive of a pessimistic philosophy. The carbuncles were well known up and down Harley Street. They were always to be cured and they never were cured. They must have cost their owner about as much as his motor-car for upkeep—what with medical fees, travelling and foreign hotels—and nobody knew whether they remained uncured because they were incurable60 or because the medical profession thought it would be cruel at one stroke to deprive itself of a regular income and Sir Paul of his greatest hobby. The strange thing was that Sir Paul with all his powerful general sagacity and shrewdness, continued firmly, despite endless disappointments, in the mystical faith that one day the carbuncles would be abolished.
"I won't beat about the bush," said he. "We know one another. I came here to talk frankly61 and I'll talk frankly."
"You go right ahead," Mr. Prohack benevolently62 encouraged him.
"First of all I should like to give you just the least hint of warning against that fellow Softly Bishop63. I daresay you know something' about him—"
"I know nothing about him, except the way he looks down his nose. But no man who looks down his nose the way he looks down his nose is going to influence me in the management of my financial affairs. I'm only an official; I should be a lamb in the City; but I have my safeguards, old chap. Thanks for the tip all the same."
Sir Paul Spinner laughed hoarsely64, as Mr. Prohack had made him laugh hundreds of times in the course of their friendship. And Mr. Prohack was aware of a feeling of superiority to Sir Paul. The feeling grew steadily65 in his breast, and he was not quite sure how it originated. Perhaps it was due to a note of dawning obsequiousness66 in Sir Paul's laugh, reminding Mr. Prohack of the ancient proverb that the jokes of the exalted67 are always side-splitting.
"As I say," Sir Paul proceeded, "you and I know each other."
Mr. Prohack nodded, with a trace of impatience68 against unnecessary repetition. Yet he was suddenly struck with the odd thought that Sir Paul certainly did not know him, but only odd bits of him; and he was doubtful whether he knew Sir Paul. He saw an obese69 man of sixty sitting in the very chair that a few moments ago had been occupied by Carthew the chauffeur, a man with big purplish features and a liverish eye, a man smoking a plutocratic70 and heavenly cigar and eating it at the same time, a man richly dressed and braided and jewelled, a man whose boots showed no sign of a crease71, an obvious millionaire of the old type, in short a man who was practically all prejudices and waste-products. And he wondered why and how that man had become his friend and won his affection. Sir Paul looked positively72 coarse in Mr. Prohack's frail73 Chippendale drawing-room, seeming to need for suitable environment the pillared marble and gilt74 of the vast Club. Well, after having eaten many hundreds of meals and drunk many hundreds of cups of coffee in the grunting75 society of Sir Paul, all that Mr. Prohack could be sure of knowing about Sir Paul was, first, that he had an absolutely unspotted reputation; second, that he was a very decent, simple-minded, kindly76, ignorant fellow (ignorant, that is, in the matters that interested Mr. Prohack); third, that he instinctively77 mistrusted intellect and brilliance78; fourth, that for nearly four years he had been convinced that Germany would win the war, and fifth, that he was capable of astounding79 freaks of generosity80. Stay, there was another item,—Sir Paul's invariable courtesy to the club servants, which courtesy he somehow contrived81 to combine with continual grumbling82. The club servants held him in affection. It was probably this sixth item that outweighed83 any of the others in Mr. Prohack's favourable84 estimate of the financier.
And then Mr. Prohack, as in a dream, heard from the lips of Paul Spinner the words, "oil concessions85 in Roumania." In a flash, in an earthquake, in a blinding vision, Mr. Prohack instantaneously understood the origin of his queer nascent86 feeling of superiority to old Paul. What he had previously known subconsciously87 he now knew consciously. Old Paul who had no doubt been paying in annual taxes about ten times the amount of Mr. Prohack's official annual salary; old Paul whose name was the synonym88 for millions and the rumours89 of whose views on the stock-markets caused the readers of financial papers to tremble; old Paul was after Mr. Prohack's money! Marvellous, marvellous, thrice marvellous money!... It was the most astounding, the most glorious thing that ever happened. Mr. Prohack immediately began to have his misgivings91 about Sir Paul Spinner. Simultaneously92 he felt sorry for old Paul. And such was his constraint that he made the motion of swallowing, and had all he could do not to blush.
Mr. Prohack might be a lamb in the City, but he had a highly trained mind, and a very firm grasp of the mere technique of finance. Therefore Sir Paul could explain himself succinctly93 and precisely in technical terms, and he did so—with much skill and a sort of unconsidered persuasiveness94, realising in his rough commonsense95 that there was no need to drive ideas into Mr. Prohack's head with a steam-hammer, or to intoxicate96 him with a heady vapour of superlatives.
In a quarter of an hour Mr. Prohack learnt that Sir Paul was promoting a strictly97 private syndicate as a preliminary to the formation of a big company for the exploitation of certain options on Roumanian oil-territory which Sir Paul held. He learnt about the reports of the trial borings. He learnt about the character and the experience of the expert whom Sir Paul had sent forth98 to Roumania. He learnt about the world-supply of oil and the world-demand for oil. He learnt about the great rival oil-groups that were then dividing the universe of oil. He had the entire situation clearly mapped on his brain. Next he obtained some startling inside knowledge about the shortage of liquid capital in the circles of "big money," and then followed Sir Paul's famous club disquisition upon the origin of the present unsaleableness of securities and the appalling99 uneasiness, not to say collapse100, of markets.
"What we want is stability, old boy. We want to be left alone. We're being governed to death. Social reform is all right. I believe in it, but everything depends on the pace. Change there ought to be, but it mustn't be like a transformation101 scene in a pantomime."
And so on.
Mr. Prohack was familiar with it all. He expected the culminating part of the exposition. But Sir Paul curved off towards the navy and the need of conserving102 in British hands a more than adequate gush103 of oil for the navy. Mr. Prohack wished that Sir Paul could have left out the navy. And then the Empire was reached. Mr. Prohack wished that Sir Paul could have left out the Empire. Finally Sir Paul arrived at the point.
"I've realised all I can in reason and I'm eighty thousand short. Of course I can get it, get it easily, but not without giving away a good part of my show in quarters that I should prefer to keep quite in the dark. I thought of you—you're clean outside all that sort of thing, and also I know you'd lie low. You might make a hundred per cent; you might make two hundred per cent. But I'll guarantee you this—you won't lose, whatever happens. Of course your capital may not be liquid. You mayn't be able to get at it. I don't know. But I thought it was just worth mentioning to you, and so I said to myself I'd look in here on my way to the City."
"Hanged if I know how my capital is!" said Mr. Prohack.
"I suppose your lawyer knows. Smathe, isn't it?... I heard so."
"How soon do you want an answer, yes or no?" Mr. Prohack asked, with a feeling that he had his back to the wall and old Paul had a gun.
"I don't want an answer now, anyhow, old boy. You must think it over. You see, once we've got the thing, I shall set the two big groups bidding against each other for it, and we shall see some fun. And I wouldn't ask them for cash payments. Only for payment in their own shares—which are worth more than money."
"Want an answer to-morrow?"
"Could you make it to-night?" Sir Paul surprisingly answered. "And assuming you say yes—I only say assuming—couldn't you run down with me to Smathe's now and find out about your capital? That wouldn't bind106 you in any way. I'm particularly anxious you should think it over very carefully. And, by the way, better keep these papers to refer to. But if you can't get at your capital, no use troubling further. That's the first thing to find out."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm going out with my wife in the car."
"But, my dear old boy, it's a big thing, and it's urgent."
"Yes, I quite see that. But I've got to go with Marian. I'll tell you what I can do. I'll telephone Smathe that you're coming down to see him yourself, and he must tell you everything. That'll be best. Then I'll let you know my decision later."
As they parted, Sir Paul said:
"We know each other, and you may take it from me it's all right. I'll say no more. However, you think it over."
"Oh! I will!"
Mr. Prohack, who didn't know what to do with a hundred thousand pounds, saw himself the possessor of a quarter of a million, and was illogically thrilled by the prospect109. But the risk! Supposing that honest Paul was wrong for once, or suppose he was carried off in the night by a carbuncle,—Mr. Prohack might find himself a pauper110 with a mere trifle of twenty thousand pounds to his name.
As soon as he had telephoned he resumed his hat and coat and went out on to the pavement to look for his car, chauffeur and wife. There was not a sign of them.
III
Mr. Prohack was undeniably a very popular man. He had few doubts concerning the financial soundness of old Paul's proposition; but he hesitated, for reasons unconnected with finance or with domesticity, about accepting it. And he conceived the idea (which none but a very peculiar111 man would have conceived) of discussing the matter with some enemy of old Paul's. Now old Paul had few enemies. Mr. Prohack, however, could put his hand on one,—Mr. Francis Fieldfare—the editor of an old-established and lucrative112 financial weekly, and familiar to readers of that and other organs as "F.F." Mr. Fieldfare's offices were quite close to Mr. Prohack's principal club, of which Mr. Fieldfare also was a member, and Mr. Fieldfare had the habit of passing into the club about noon and reading the papers for an hour, lunching early, and leaving the club again just as the majority of the members were ordering their after-lunch coffee. Mr. Fieldfare pursued this course because he had a deep instinct for being in the minority. Mr. Prohack looked at his watch. The resolution of every man is limited in quantity. Only in mad people is resolution inexhaustible. Mr. Prohack had no more resolution than becomes an average sane113 fellow, and his resolution to wait for his wife had been seriously tried by the energetic refusal to go with Spinner to see Smathe. It now suddenly gave out.
"Pooh!" said Mr. Prohack. "I've waited long enough for her. She'll now have to wait a bit for me."
And off he went by taxi to his club. The visit, he reflected, would serve the secondary purpose of an inconspicuous re-entry into club-life after absence from it.
He thought:
"They may have had an accident with that car. One day she's certain to have an accident anyhow,—she's so impulsive114."
Of course Mr. Fieldfare was not in the morning-room of the club as he ought to have been. That was bound to happen. Mr. Prohack gazed around at the monumental somnolence115 of the great room, was ignored, and backed out into the hall, meaning to return home. But in the hall he met F.F. just arriving. It surprised and perhaps a little pained Mr. Prohack to observe that F.F. had evidently heard neither of his illness nor of his inheritance.
Mr. Fieldfare was a spare, middle-aged116 man, of apparently117 austere118 habit; short, shabby; a beautiful, resigned face, burning eyes, and a soft voice. He was weighed down, and had been weighed down for thirty years, by a sense of the threatened immediate90 collapse of society—of all societies, and by the solemn illusion that he more clearly than anybody else understood the fearful trend of events.
Mr. Prohack had once, during the war, remarked on seeing F.F. glance at the tape in the Club: "Look at F.F. afraid lest there may be some good news." Nevertheless he liked F.F.
As editor of a financial weekly, F.F. naturally had to keep well under control his world-sadness. High finance cannot prosper119 in an atmosphere of world-sadness, and hates it. F.F. ought never to have become the editor of a financial weekly; but he happened to be an expert statistician, an honest man and a courageous120 man, and an expert in the pathology of stock-markets, and on this score his proprietors121 excused the slight traces of world-sadness occasionally to be found in the paper. He might have left his post and obtained another; but to be forced by fate to be editor of a financial weekly was F.F.'s chief grievance122 in life, and he loved a good grievance beyond everything.
"But, my dear fellow," said F.F. with his melancholy123 ardent124 glance, when Mr. Prohack had replied suitably to his opening question. "I'd no idea you'd been unwell. I hope it isn't what's called a breakdown125."
"Oh, no!" Mr. Prohack laughed nervously. "But you know what doctors are. A little rest has been prescribed."
F.F. gazed at him softly compassionate126, as if to indicate that nothing but trouble could be expected under the present political regime. They examined the tape together.
"Things can't go on much longer like this," observed F.F. comprehensively, in front of the morning's messages from the capitals of the world.
"Still," said Mr. Prohack, "we've won the war, haven't we?"
"I suppose we have," said F.F. and sighed.
Mr. Prohack felt that he had no more time for preliminaries, and in order to cut them short started some ingenious but quite inexcusable lying.
"You didn't chance to see old Paul Spinner going out as you came in?"
"No," answered F.F. "Why?"
"Nothing. Only a man in the morning-room was wanting to know if he was still in the Club, and I told him I'd see."
"I hear," said F.F. after a moment, and in a lower voice, "I hear he's getting up some big new oil scheme."
"Ah!" murmured Mr. Prohack, delighted at so favourable a coincidence, with a wonderful imitation of casualness. "And what may that be?"
"Nobody knows. Some people would give a good deal to know. But if I'm any judge of my Spinner they won't know till he's licked off all the cream. It's marvellous to me how Spinner and his sort can keep on devoting themselves to the old ambitions while the world's breaking up. Marvellous!"
"Money, you mean?"
"Personal aggrandisement."
"Well," answered Mr. Prohack, with a judicial127, detached air. "I've always found Spinner a very decent agreeable chap."
"Oh, yes! Agreed! Agreed! They're all too confoundedly agreeable for anything, all that lot are."
"But surely he's honest?"
"Quite. As straight a man as ever breathed, especially according to his own lights. All his enterprises are absolutely what is known as 'sound.' They all make rich people richer, and in particular they make him richer, though I bet even he's been feeling the pinch lately. They all have."
"Still, I expect old Spinner desires the welfare of the country just as much as any one else. It's not all money with him."
"No. But did you ever know Spinner touch anything that didn't mean money in the first place? I never did. What he and his lot mean by the welfare of the country is the stability of the country as it is. They see the necessity for development, improvement in the social scheme. Oh, yes! They see it and admit it. Then they go to church, or they commune with heaven on the golf-course, and their prayer is: 'Give us needed change, O Lord, but not just yet.'"
The pair moved to the morning-room.
"Look here," said Mr. Prohack, lightly, ignoring the earnestness in F.F.'s tone. "Supposing you had a bit of money, say eighty thousand pounds, and the chance to put it into one of old who-is-it's schemes, what would you do?"
"I should be ashamed to have eighty thousand pounds," F.F. replied with dark whispering passion. "And in any case nothing would induce me to have any dealings with the gang."
"Are they all bad?"
"They're all bad, all! They are all anti-social. All! They are all a curse to the country and to all mankind." F.F. had already rung the bell, and he now beckoned128 coldly to the waitress who entered the room. "Everybody who supports the present Government is guilty of a crime against human progress. Bring me a glass of that brown sherry I had yesterday—you know the one—and three small pieces of cheese."
Mr. Prohack went away to the telephone, and got Paul Spinner at Smathe's office.
"I only wanted to tell you that I've decided to come into your show, if Smathe can arrange for the money. I've thought it all over carefully, and I'm yours, old boy."
He hung up the receiver immediately.
IV
The excursion to the club had taken longer than Mr. Prohack had anticipated, and when he got back home it was nearly lunch-time. No sign of an Eagle car or any other car in front of the house! Mr. Prohack let himself in. The sounds of a table being set came from the dining-room. He opened the door there. Machin met him at the door. Each withdrew from the other, avoiding a collision.
"Your mistress returned?"
"Yes, sir." Machin seemed to hesitate, her mind disturbed.
"Where is she?"
"I was just coming to tell you, sir. She told me to say that she was lying down."
"Oh!"
Disdaining129 further to interrogate130 the servant, he hurried upstairs. He had to excuse himself to Eve, and he had also to justify131 to her the placing of eighty thousand pounds in a scheme which she could not possibly understand and for which there was nothing whatever to show. She would approve, of course; she would say that she had complete confidence in his sagacity, but all the inflections of her voice, all her gestures and glances, would indicate to him that in her opinion he was a singularly ingenuous132 creature, the natural prey133 of sharpers, and that the chances of their not being ruined by his incurable simplicity134 were exceedingly small. His immense reputation in the Treasury135, his sinister136 fame as the Terror of the departments, would not weigh an atom in her general judgment137 of the concrete case affecting the fortunes of the Prohack family. Then she would be brave; she would be bravely resigned to the worst. She would kiss his innocence138. She would quite unconvincingly assure him, in her own vocabulary, that he was a devil of a fellow and the smartest man in the world.
Further, she would draw in the horns of her secret schemes of expenditure139. She would say that she had intended to do so-and-so and to buy so-and-so, but that perhaps it would be better, in view of the uncertainties140 of destiny, neither to do nor to buy so-and-so. In short, she would succeed in conveying to him the idea that to live with him was like being in an open boat with him adrift in the middle of the stormy Atlantic. She loved to live with him, the compensations were exquisite141, and moreover what would be his fate if he were alone? Still, it was like being in an open boat with him adrift in the middle of the stormy Atlantic. And she would cling closer to him and point to the red sun setting among black clouds of tempest. And this would continue until he could throw say about a hundred and sixty thousand pounds into her lap, whereupon she would calmly assert that in her opinion he and she had really been safe all the while on the glassy lake of the Serpentine142 in a steamer.
"I ought to have thought of all that before," he said to himself. "And if I had I should have bought houses, something for her to look at and touch. And even then she would have suggested that if I hadn't been a coward I could have done better than houses. She would have found in The Times every day instances of companies paying twenty and thirty per cent ... No! It would have been impossible for me to invest the money without losing her esteem143 for me as a man of business. I wish to heaven I hadn't got any money. So here goes!"
And he burst with assumed confidence into the bedroom. And simultaneously, to intensify144 his unease, the notion that profiteering was profiteering, whether in war or in peace, and the notion that F.F. was a man of lofty altruistic145 ideals, surged through his distracted mind.
Eve was lying on the bed. She looked very small on the bed, smaller than usual. At the sound of the door opening she said, without moving her head—he could not see her face from the door:
"Is that you, Arthur?"
"Yes, what's the matter?"
"Just put my cloak over my feet, will you?"
He came forward and took the cloak off a chair.
"What's the matter?" he repeated, arranging the cloak.
"I'm not hurt, dearest, I assure you I'm not—not at all." She was speaking in a faint, weak voice, like a little child's.
"Then you've had an accident?"
She glanced up at him sideways, timidly, compassionately146, and nodded.
"You mustn't be upset. I told Machin to go on with her work and not to say anything to you about it. I preferred to tell you myself. I know how sensitive you are where I'm concerned."
Mr. Prohack had to adjust his thoughts, somewhat violently, to the new situation, and he made no reply; but he was very angry about the mere existence of motor-cars. He felt that he had always had a prejudice against motor-cars, and that the prejudice was not a prejudice because it was well-founded.
"Darling, don't look so stern. It wasn't Carthew's fault. Another car ran into us. I told Carthew to drive in the Park, and we went right round the Park in about five minutes. So as I felt sure you'd be a long time with that fat man, I had the idea of running down to Putney—to see Sissie." Eve laughed nervously. "I thought I might possibly bring her home with me.... After the accident Carthew put me into a taxi and I came back. Of course he had to stay to look after the car. And then you weren't here when I arrived! Where are you going, dearest?"
"I'm going to telephone for the doctor, of course," said Mr. Prohack quietly, but very irritably147.
"Oh, darling! I've sent for the doctor. He wasn't in, they said, but they said he'd be back quite soon and then he'd come at once. I don't really need the doctor. I only sent for him because I knew you'd be so frightfully angry if I didn't."
Mr. Prohack had returned to the bed. He took his wife's hand.
"Feel my pulse. It's all right, isn't it?"
"I can't feel it at all."
"Oh, Arthur, you never could! I can feel your hand trembling, that's what I can feel. Now please don't be upset, Arthur."
"I suppose the car's smashed?"
She nodded:
"It's a bit broken."
"Where was it?"
"It was just on the other side of Putney Bridge, on the tramlines there."
"Carthew wasn't hurt?"
"Oh, no! Carthew was simply splendid."
"How did it happen, exactly?"
"Oh, Arthur, you with your 'exactlys'! Don't ask me. I'm too tired. Besides, I didn't see it. My eyes were shut." She closed her eyes.
Suddenly she sat up and put her hand on his shoulder, in a sort of appeal, vaguely148 smiling. He tried to smile, but could not. Then her hand dropped. A totally bewildered expression veiled the anxious kindness in her eyes. The blood left her face until her cheeks were nearly as white as the embroidered149 cloth on the night-table. Her eyes closed. She fell back. She had fainted. She was just as if dead. Her hand was as cold as the hand of a corpse150.
Such was Mr. Prohack's vast experience of life that he had not the least idea what to do in this crisis. But he tremendously regretted that Angmering, Bishop, and the inventor of the motor-car had ever been born. He rushed out on to the landing and loudly shouted: "Machin! Machin! Ring up that d——d doctor again, and if he can't come ring up Dr. Plott at once."
"Yes, sir. Yes, sir."
He rushed back into the bedroom, discovered Eve's smelling-salts, and held them to her nose. Already the blood was mounting again.
"Well, she's not dead, anyway!" he said to himself grimly.
He could see the blood gently mounting, mounting. It was a wonderful, a mysterious and a reassuring151 sight.
"I don't care so long as she isn't injured internally," he said to himself.
Eve opened her eyes in a dazed look. Then she grinned as if apologetically. Then she cried copiously152.
Mr. Prohack heard a car outside. It was Dr. Veiga's. The mere sound of Dr. Veiga's car soothed153 Mr. Prohack, accused him of losing his head, and made a man of him.
Dr. Veiga entered the bedroom in exactly the same style as on his first visit to Mr. Prohack himself. He had heard the nature of the case from Machin on his way upstairs. He listened to Mr. Prohack, who spoke154, in the most deceitful way, as if he had been through scores of such affairs.
"Exactly," said Dr. Veiga, examining Eve summarily. "She sat up. The blood naturally left her head, and she fainted. Fainting is nothing but a withdrawing of blood from the head. Will you ring for that servant of yours, please?"
"I'm positive I'm quite all right, Doctor," Eve murmured.
"Will you kindly not talk," said he. "If you're so positive you're all right, why did you send for me? Did you walk upstairs? Then your legs aren't broken, at least not seriously." He laughed softly.
But shortly afterwards, when Mr. Prohack, admirably dissembling his purposes, crept with dignity out of the room, Dr. Veiga followed him, and shut the door, leaving Machin busy within.
"I don't think that there is any internal lesion," said Dr. Veiga, with seriousness. "But I will not yet state absolutely. She has had a very severe shock and her nerves are considerably155 jarred."
"But it's nothing physical?"
"My dear sir, of course it's physical. Do you conceive the nerves are not purely physical organs? I can't conceive them as anything but physical organs. Can you?"
Mr. Prohack felt schoolboyish.
"It's you that she's upset about, though. Did you notice she motioned me to give you some of the brandy she was taking? Very sweet of her, was it not?... What are you going to do now?"
"I'm going to fetch my daughter."
"Excellent. But have something before you go. You may not know it, but you have been using up nervous tissue, which has to be replaced."
As he was driving down to Putney in a taxi, Mr. Prohack certainly did feel very tired. But he was not so tired as not to insist on helping156 the engine of the taxi. He pushed the taxi forward with all his might all the way to Putney. He pushed it till his arms ached, though his hands were in his pockets. The distance to Putney had incomprehensibly stretched to nine hundred and ninety-nine miles.
He found Sissie in the studio giving a private lesson to a middle-aged gentleman who ought, Mr. Prohack considered, to have been thinking of his latter end rather than of dancing. He broke up the lesson very abruptly157.
"Your mother has had a motor accident. You must come at once."
Sissie came.
"Then it must have been about here," said she, as the taxi approached Putney Bridge on the return journey.
So it must. He certainly had not thought of the locus158 of the accident. He had merely pictured it, in his own mind, according to his own frightened fancy. Yes, it must have been just about there. And yet there was no sign of it in the roadway. Carthew must have had the wounded Eagle removed. Mr. Prohack sat stern and silent. A wondrous woman, his wife! Absurd, possibly, about such matters as investments; but an angel! Her self-forgetfulness, her absorption in him,—staggering! The accident was but one more proof of it. He was greatly alarmed about her, for the doctor had answered for nothing. He seemed to have a thousand worries. He had been worried all his life, but the worries that had formed themselves in a trail to the inheritance were worse worries than the old simple ones. No longer did the thought of the inheritance brighten his mind. He somehow desired to go back to former days. Glancing askance at Sissie, he saw that she too was stern. He resumed the hard pushing of the taxi. It was not quite so hard as before, because he knew that Sissie also was pushing her full share.
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1
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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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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pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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7
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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8
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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11
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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12
catastrophes
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| n.灾祸( catastrophe的名词复数 )；灾难；不幸事件；困难 | |
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13
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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14
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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15
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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17
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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19
concurred
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| 同意（concur的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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21
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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22
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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24
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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conspiracies
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| n.阴谋，密谋( conspiracy的名词复数 ) | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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28
radiator
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| n.暖气片，散热器 | |
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29
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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30
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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31
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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32
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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33
imperturbability
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| n.冷静；沉着 | |
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34
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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35
automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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37
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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38
ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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39
provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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40
slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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41
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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42
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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43
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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44
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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45
territorial
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| adj.领土的，领地的 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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47
armistice
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| n.休战，停战协定 | |
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48
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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49
chauffeurs
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| n.受雇于人的汽车司机( chauffeur的名词复数 ) | |
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50
lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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51
conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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52
constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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53
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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54
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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55
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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56
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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57
inaccurate
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| adj.错误的，不正确的，不准确的 | |
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58
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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59
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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60
incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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61
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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62
benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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63
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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64
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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65
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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66
obsequiousness
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| 媚骨 | |
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67
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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68
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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69
obese
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| adj.过度肥胖的，肥大的 | |
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70
plutocratic
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| adj.富豪的，有钱的 | |
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71
crease
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| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
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72
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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73
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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74
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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75
grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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76
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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77
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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78
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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79
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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80
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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81
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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82
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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83
outweighed
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| v.在重量上超过( outweigh的过去式和过去分词 )；在重要性或价值方面超过 | |
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84
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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85
concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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86
nascent
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| adj.初生的，发生中的 | |
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87
subconsciously
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| ad.下意识地，潜意识地 | |
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88
synonym
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| n.同义词，换喻词 | |
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89
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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90
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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91
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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92
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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93
succinctly
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| adv.简洁地；简洁地，简便地 | |
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94
persuasiveness
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| 说服力 | |
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95
commonsense
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| adj.有常识的；明白事理的；注重实际的 | |
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96
intoxicate
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| vt.使喝醉，使陶醉，使欣喜若狂 | |
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97
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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98
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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99
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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100
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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101
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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102
conserving
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| v.保护，保藏，保存( conserve的现在分词 ) | |
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103
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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104
touting
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| v.兜售( tout的现在分词 )；招揽；侦查；探听赛马情报 | |
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105
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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106
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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107
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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109
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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110
pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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111
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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112
lucrative
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| adj.赚钱的，可获利的 | |
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113
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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114
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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115
somnolence
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| n.想睡，梦幻；欲寐；嗜睡；嗜眠 | |
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116
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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117
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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118
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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119
prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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120
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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121
proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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122
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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123
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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124
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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125
breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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126
compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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127
judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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128
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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129
disdaining
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| 鄙视( disdain的现在分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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130
interrogate
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| vt.讯问，审问，盘问 | |
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131
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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132
ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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133
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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134
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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135
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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136
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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137
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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138
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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139
expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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140
uncertainties
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| 无把握( uncertainty的名词复数 )； 不确定； 变化不定； 无把握、不确定的事物 | |
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141
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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142
serpentine
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| adj.蜿蜒的，弯曲的 | |
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143
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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144
intensify
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| vt.加强；变强；加剧 | |
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145
altruistic
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| adj.无私的，为他人着想的 | |
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146
compassionately
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| adv.表示怜悯地，有同情心地 | |
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147
irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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148
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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149
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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150
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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151
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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152
copiously
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| adv.丰富地，充裕地 | |
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153
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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154
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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155
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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156
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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157
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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158
locus
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| n.中心 | |
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