The Beetle: A Mystery

by Richard Marsh

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE DUCHESS' BALL

  That night was the Duchess of Datchet's ball--the first person I saw asI entered the dancing-room was Dora Grayling.

  I went straight up to her.

  'Miss Grayling, I behaved very badly to you last night, I have come tomake to you my apologies,--to sue for your forgiveness!'

  'My forgiveness?' Her head went back,--she has a pretty bird-like trickof cocking it a little on one side. 'You were not well. Are you better?'

  'Quite.--You forgive me? Then grant me plenary absolution by giving mea dance for the one I lost last night.'

  She rose. A man came up,--a stranger to me; she's one of the besthunted women in England,--there's a million with her.

  'This is my dance, Miss Grayling.'

  She looked at him.

  'You must excuse me. I am afraid I have made a mistake. I had forgottenthat I was already engaged.'

  I had not thought her capable of it. She took my arm, and away we went,and left him staring.

  'It's he who's the sufferer now,' I whispered, as we went round,--shecan waltz!

  'You think so? It was I last night,--I did not mean, if I could helpit, to suffer again. To me a dance with you means something.' She wentall red,--adding, as an afterthought, 'Nowadays so few men reallydance. I expect it's because you dance so well.'

  'Thank you.'

  We danced the waltz right through, then we went to an impromptu shelterwhich had been rigged up on a balcony. And we talked. There's somethingsympathetic about Miss Grayling which leads one to talk about one'sself,--before I was half aware of it I was telling her of all my plansand projects,--actually telling her of my latest notion which,ultimately, was to result in the destruction of whole armies as by aflash of lightning. She took an amount of interest in it which wassurprising.

  'What really stands in the way of things of this sort is not theory butpractice,--one can prove one's facts on paper, or on a small scale in aroom; what is wanted is proof on a large scale, by actual experiment.If, for instance, I could take my plant to one of the forests of SouthAmerica, where there is plenty of animal life but no human, I coulddemonstrate the soundness of my position then and there.'

  'Why don't you?'

  'Think of the money it would cost.'

  'I thought I was a friend of yours.'

  'I had hoped you were.'

  'Then why don't you let me help you?'

  'Help me?--How?'

  'By letting you have the money for your South American experiment;--itwould be an investment on which I should expect to receive goodinterest.'

  I fidgeted.

  'It is very good of you, Miss Grayling, to talk like that.'

  She became quite frigid.

  'Please don't be absurd!--I perceive quite clearly that you aresnubbing me, and that you are trying to do it as delicately as you knowhow.'

  'Miss Grayling!'

  'I understand that it was an impertinence on my part to volunteerassistance which was unasked; you have made that sufficiently plain.'

  'I assure you--'

  'Pray don't. Of course, if it had been Miss Lindon it would have beendifferent; she would at least have received a civil answer. But we arenot all Miss Lindon.'

  I was aghast. The outburst was so uncalled for,--I had not the faintestnotion what I had said or done to cause it; she was in such asurprising passion--and it suited her!--I thought I had never seen herlook prettier,--I could do nothing else but stare. So she wenton,--with just as little reason.

  'Here is someone coming to claim this dance,--I can't throw all mypartners over. Have I offended you so irremediably that it will beimpossible for you to dance with me again?'

  'Miss Grayling!--I shall be only too delighted.' She handed me hercard. 'Which may I have?'

  'For your own sake you had better place it as far off as you possiblycan.'

  'They all seem taken.'

  'That doesn't matter; strike off any name you please, anywhere and putyour own instead.'

  It was giving me an almost embarrassingly free hand. I booked myselffor the next waltz but two--who it was who would have to give way to meI did not trouble to inquire.

  'Mr Atherton!--is that you?'

  It was,--it was also she. It was Marjorie! And so soon as I saw her Iknew that there was only one woman in the world for me,--the mere sightof her sent the blood tingling through my veins. Turning to herattendant cavalier, she dismissed him with a bow.

  'Is there an empty chair?'

  She seated herself in the one Miss Grayling had just vacated. I satdown beside her. She glanced at me, laughter in her eyes. I was all ina stupid tremblement.

  'You remember that last night I told you that I might require yourfriendly services in diplomatic intervention?' I nodded,--I felt thatthe allusion was unfair. 'Well, the occasion's come,--or, at least,it's very near.' She was still,--and I said nothing to help her. 'Youknow how unreasonable papa can be.'

  I did,--never a more pig-headed man in England than GeoffreyLindon,--or, in a sense, a duller. But, just then, I was not preparedto admit it to his child.

  'You know what an absurd objection he has to--Paul.'

  There was an appreciative hesitation before she uttered the fellow'sChristian name,--when it came it was with an accent of tenderness whichstung me like a gadfly. To speak to me--of all men,--of the fellow insuch a tone was--like a woman.

  'Has Mr Lindon no notion of how things stand between you?'

  'Except what he suspects. That is just where you are to come in, papathinks so much of you--I want you to sound Paul's praises in hisear--to prepare him for what must come.' Was ever rejected loverburdened with such a task? Its enormity kept me still. 'Sydney, youhave always been my friend,--my truest, dearest friend. When I was alittle girl you used to come between papa and me, to shield me from hiswrath. Now that I am a big girl I want you to be on my side once more,and to shield me still.'

  Her voice softened. She laid her hand upon my arm. How, under hertouch, I burned.

  'But I don't understand what cause there has been for secrecy,--whyshould there have been any secrecy from the first?'

  'It was Paul's wish that papa should not be told.'

  'Is Mr Lessingham ashamed of you?'

  'Sydney!'

  'Or does he fear your father?'

  'You are unkind. You know perfectly well that papa has been prejudicedagainst him all along, you know that his political position is just nowone of the greatest difficulty, that every nerve and muscle is kept onthe continual strain, that it is in the highest degree essential thatfurther complications of every and any sort should be avoided. He isquite aware that his suit will not be approved of by papa, and hesimply wishes that nothing shall be said about it till the end of thesession,--that is all'

  'I see! Mr Lessingham is cautious even in love-making,--politicianfirst, and lover afterwards.'

  'Well!--why not?--would you have him injure the cause he has at heartfor want of a little patience?'

  'It depends what cause it is he has at heart.'

  'What is the matter with you?--why do you speak to me like that?--it isnot like you at all.' She looked at me shrewdly, with flashing eyes.'Is it possible that you are--jealous?--that you were in earnest inwhat you said last night?--I thought that was the sort of thing yousaid to every girl.'

  I would have given a great deal to take her in my arms, and press herto my bosom then and there,--to think that she should taunt me withhaving said to her the sort of thing I said to every girl.

  'What do you know of Mr Lessingham?'

  'What all the world knows,--that history will be made by him.'

  'There are kinds of history in the making of which one would not desireto be associated. What do you know of his private life,--it was to thatthat I was referring.'

  'Really,--you go too far. I know that he is one of the best, just as heis one of the greatest, of men; for me, that is sufficient.'

  'If you do know that, it is sufficient.' />
  'I do know it,--all the world knows it. Everyone with whom he comes incontact is aware--must be aware, that he is incapable of adishonourable thought or action.'

  'Take my advice, don't appreciate any man too highly. In the book ofevery man's life there is a page which he would wish to keep turneddown.'

  'There is no such page in Paul's,--there may be in yours; I think thatprobable.'

  'Thank you. I fear it is more than probable. I fear that, in my case,the page may extend to several. There is nothing Apostolic aboutme,--not even the name.'

  'Sydney!--you are unendurable!--It is the more strange to hear you talklike this since Paul regards you as his friend.'

  'He flatters me.'

  'Are you not his friend?'

  'Is it not sufficient to be yours?'

  'No,--who is against Paul is against me.'

  'That is hard.'

  'How is it hard? Who is against the husband can hardly be for thewife,--when the husband and the wife are one.'

  'But as yet you are not one.--Is my cause so hopeless?'

  'What do you call your cause?--are you thinking of that nonsense youwere talking about last night?'

  She laughed!

  'You call it nonsense.--You ask for sympathy, and give--so much!'

  'I will give you all the sympathy you stand in need of,--I promise it!My poor, dear Sydney!--don't be so absurd! Do you think that I don'tknow you? You're the best of friends, and the worst of lovers,--as theone, so true; so fickle as the other. To my certain knowledge, with howmany girls have you been in love,--and out again. It is true that, tothe best of my knowledge and belief, you have never been in love withme before,--but that's the merest accident. Believe me, my dear, dearSydney, you'll be in love with someone else tomorrow,--if you're nothalf-way there to-night. I confess, quite frankly, that, in thatdirection, all the experience I have had of you has in nowisestrengthened my prophetic instinct. Cheer up!--one never knows!--Who isthis that's coming?'

  It was Dora Grayling who was coming,--I went off with her without aword,--we were half-way through the dance before she spoke to me.

  'I am sorry that I was cross to you just now, and--disagreeable.Somehow I always seem destined to show to you my most unpleasant side.'

  'The blame was mine,--what sort of side do I show you? You are farkinder to me than I deserve,--now, and always. 'That is what you say.'

  'Pardon me, it's true,--else how comes it that, at this time of day,I'm without a friend in all the world?'

  'You!--without a friend!--I never knew a man who had so many!--I neverknew a person of whom so many men and women join in speaking well!'

  'Miss Grayling!'

  'As for never having done anything worth doing, think of what you havedone. Think of your discoveries, think of your inventions, thinkof--but never mind! The world knows you have done great things, and itconfidently looks to you to do still greater. You talk of beingfriendless, and yet when I ask, as a favour--as a great favour!--to beallowed to do something to show my friendship, you--well, you snub me.'

  'I snub you!'

  'You know you snubbed me.'

  'Do you really mean that you take an interest in--in my work?'

  'You know I mean it.'

  She turned to me, her face all glowing,--and I did know it.

  'Will you come to my laboratory to-morrow morning?'

  'Will I!--won't I!'

  'With your aunt?'

  'Yes, with my aunt.'

  'I'll show you round, and tell you all there is to be told, and then ifyou still think there's anything in it, I'll accept your offer aboutthat South American experiment,--that is, if it still holds good.'

  'Of course it still holds good.'

  'And we'll be partners.'

  'Partners?--Yes,--we will be partners.'

  'It will cost a terrific sum.'

  'There are some things which never can cost too much.'

  'That's not my experience.'

  'I hope it will be mine.'

  'It's a bargain?'

  'On my side, I promise you that it's a bargain.'

  When I got outside the room I found that Percy Woodville was at myside. His round face was, in a manner of speaking as long as my arm. Hetook his glass out of his eye, and rubbed it with his handkerchief,--anddirectly he put it back he took it out and rubbed it again, I believethat I never saw him in such a state of fluster,--and, when one speaksof Woodville, that means something.

  'Atherton, I am in a devil of a stew.' He looked it. 'All of aheap!--I've had a blow which I shall never get over!'

  'Then get under.'

  Woodville is one of those fellows who will insist on telling me theirmost private matters,--even to what they owe their washerwomen for theruination of their shirts. Why, goodness alone can tell,--heaven knowsI am not sympathetic.

  'Don't be an idiot!--you don't know what I'm suffering!--I'm as nearlyas possible stark mad.'

  'That's all right, old chap,--I've seen you that way more than oncebefore.'

  'Don't talk like that,--you're not a perfect brute!'

  'I bet you a shilling that I am.'

  'Don't torture me,--you're not. Atherton!' He seized me by the lapelsof my coat, seeming half beside himself,--fortunately he had drawn meinto a recess, so that we were noticed by few observers. 'What do youthink has happened?'

  'My dear chap, how on earth am I to know?'

  'She's refused me!'

  'Has she!--Well I never!--Buck up,--try some other address,--there arequite as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it.'

  'Atherton, you're a blackguard.'

  He had crumpled his handkerchief into a ball, and was actually bobbingat his eyes with it,--the idea of Percy Woodville being dissolved intears was excruciatingly funny,--but, just then, I could hardly tellhim so.

  'There's not a doubt of it,--it's my way of being sympathetic. Don't beso down, man,--try her again!'

  'It's not the slightest use--I know it isn't--from the way she treatedme.'

  'Don't be so sure--women often say what they mean least. Who's thelady?'

  'Who?--Is there more women in the world than one for me, or has thereever been? You ask me who! What does the word mean to me but MarjorieLindon!'

  'Marjorie Lindon?'

  I fancy that my jaw dropped open,--that, to use his own vernacular, Iwas 'all of a heap.' I felt like it.

  I strode away--leaving him mazed--and all but ran into Marjorie's arms.

  'I'm just leaving. Will you see me to the carriage, Mr Atherton?' I sawher to the carriage. 'Are you off?--can I give you a lift?'

  'Thank you,--I am not thinking of being off.'

  'I'm going to the House of Commons,--won't you come?'

  'What are you going there for?'

  Directly she spoke of it I knew why she was going,--and she knew that Iknew, as her words showed.

  'You are quite well aware of what the magnet is. You are not soignorant as not to know that the Agricultural Amendment Act is onto-night, and that Paul is to speak. I always try to be there when Paulis to speak, and I mean to always keep on trying.'

  'He is a fortunate man.'

  'Indeed,--and again indeed. A man with such gifts as his isinadequately described as fortunate.--But I must be off. He expected tobe up before, but I heard from him a few minutes ago that there hasbeen a delay, but that he will be up within half-an-hour.--Till ournext meeting.'

  As I returned into the house, in the hall I met Percy Woodville. He hadhis hat on.

  'Where are you off to?'

  'I'm off to the House.'

  'To hear Paul Lessingham?'

  'Damn Paul Lessingham!'

  'With all my heart!'

  'There's a division expected,--I've got to go.'

  'Someone else has gone to hear Paul Lessingham,--Marjorie Lindon.'

  'No!--you don't say so!--by Jove!--I say, Atherton, I wish I could makea speech,--I never can. When I'm electioneering I have to have myspeeches written for me, and then I have to r
ead 'em. But, by Jove, ifI knew Miss Lindon was in the gallery, and if I knew anything about thething, or could get someone to tell me something, hang me if I wouldn'tspeak,--I'd show her I'm not the fool she thinks I am!'

  'Speak, Percy, speak!--you'd knock 'em silly, sir!--I tell you whatI'll do,--I'll come with you! I'll to the House as well!--PaulLessingham shall have an audience of three.'