But I must be glad, Jane told herself; his happiness is the first consideration. I must not be selfish about David. I must give him up whole-heartedly, for he belonged to Elsie before he belonged to me. It was only because he thought she was lost that he turned to me. And then she thought — it is a good thing we are not really married, for that would have been a thousand times worse — to feel that he was tied to me, and his heart was elsewhere — thank God I have been spared that, for I could not have borne it.
With these thoughts filling her mind it was impossible to take part in the conversation — indeed, she scarcely heard what was being said. She sat at the table, pretending to eat, and wondering miserably how long it would be before the meal was finished, and she could make some excuse to get away from the others. She felt as if her agony of mind must be written upon her face for everyone to see — David, she thought, David and Elsie — I must get him alone and tell him about her — how am I going to tell him?
Fortunately for Jane the Glovers were too obsessed by their own troubles to notice Jane’s silence, and Miss Vernon had so much to say that an audience was all she required. She talked on about everything under the sun, while Jane smiled at her with a fixed smile, and Dr. Glover drummed on the polished wood of the table with thin nervous fingers. In his own way he was quite as unhappy as Jane. The clouds were gathering over the little colony. There was bound to be trouble, bound to be bloodshed before things were settled, and who could tell what the outcome would be. For himself it did not matter; he could fend for himself, but Nancy and the boys could not. Who would look after them if he were gone? It was all the more alarming, Dr. Glover reflected, because Crackling and his friends had evidently seized upon him as a figurehead to lead their revolt against Boddington. “It’s you we want,” Crackling had said. They were going to thrust him into the forefront of affairs, and Glover, with his responsibilities heavy upon him, would much rather have sat upon the fence until he saw how things were going. He sympathised with the malcontents, of course, sympathised deeply, and if there had been no Nancy to think of he would have thrown himself heart and soul into the fray. But Nancy must come first. He had brought her here, and it was up to him to see she came to no harm.
With these reflections going round and round in his mind it was no wonder that Dr. Glover was abstracted and silent, that he sat gloomy and aloof, drumming on the table with his fingers, crumbling his bread, and paying no attention to the conversation of his guest. Mrs. Glover watched him anxiously, she knew him so well that it was obvious to her that something serious was the matter. She wished, somewhat inhospitably, that Miss Vernon would go, so that she might get her husband to herself and find out the cause of his distress.
The strange luncheon-party had almost come to an end when the door suddenly burst open, and Sir Arthur Willis appeared, followed by David. Jane was so thankful to see David, alive and well, that she could not help uttering a cry of delight.
“Glover!” exclaimed Sir Arthur urgently. “Glover, you must come with me at once. I am going up to the house to see Boddington. There is no time to lose.”
They all gazed at Sir Arthur in amazement. Something very strange had happened to him. His lethargy had vanished, his eyes were burning with excitement in his pale thin face.
“Has it come already?” cried Dr. Glover, leaping to his feet.
“What d’you mean? Nothing has come,” Sir Arthur replied, looking at him in a bewildered manner.
“What has happened then?”
“What has happened?” echoed Sir Arthur. “This is what has happened. Boddington has sent me a note refusing to allow me to leave Shallowdale. I won’t stand it, Glover. I must go over and see Barton. I won’t be dictated to like this —”
David crossed the room and leant on the back of Jane’s chair, “There’s going to be a row,” he said softly. “There’s going to be the devil of a row, but I think we’ll get him all right. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
“Oh, David,” Jane whispered back. “I do hate this place.”
“I know,” he said. “We’ll get home as soon as we possibly can. But we must have Sir Arthur, mustn’t we? I had a job to rouse him up, but he’s fairly off now. He won’t rest until he’s got Boddington’s permission to come.”
“David, I want to tell you something,” said Jane faintly. “Something important —”
“Not now, my dear,” he told her. “There’s no time — we must strike when the iron is hot —”
Sir Arthur was walking up and down the room in a fever of impatience.
“Boddington thinks he’s the Almighty — what right has he to deny me the opportunity to save a man’s life? He has the audacity to tell me that Barton has no claim upon my services. What claim has Boddington upon me? He prolonged my life against my will — I would rather have died with the others. This is a mad-house, Glover. A madhouse. I will be a slave to no man, least of all to a maniac. He shall give me a pass today, and you — you will come, Glover?”
“Listen to me,” David cried, raising his voice to be heard. “There’s an aeroplane in Franklin’s hangar, I can take you all. There is no need for a pass.”
“And my wife?” Glover said quickly.
“Of course.”
“Not without the boys,” cried Mrs. Glover. “I won’t stir a step without my boys. They are at school —”
“Send for them,” Sir Arthur said, “and wait here. If Boddington won’t give me a pass we’ll go by ’plane.”
Miss Vernon had been listening to the whole conversation with widely open eyes. Looking from one to another as each contributed his or her quota.
“But you don’t want to leave here?” she said at last, incredulously. “Professor Boddington —”
“I want to save a man’s life,” Sir Arthur told her fiercely. “A man who is my friend, a man worth half a dozen crazy professors — come, Glover.”
“Wait,” said the doctor. “There’s no desperate hurry, Willis. We should have our plans made for instant departure. The car ready, the boys here, our bags packed. Then tackle the Professor.”
They saw the sense of that, and agreed to it. They separated to accomplish their various tasks. Jane found herself alone in the dining-room with Sir Arthur Willis.
“I’m ready,” he said. “My bag is here. It is a strange thing to have so little that you care for in the world. So little, that you can carry it in one hand.”
Jane nodded. She wanted him to go on talking. He had calmed down a little now, but there was determination in his clean-cut face. He sat down at the table and chose an apple from the dish. Jane watched while he peeled it with the delicate precision of a surgeon. His hands were beautiful, she thought, so strong and sure in their movements.
“Your husband told me of his dilemma, Mrs. Fenemore,” he continued, stretching out his hand and helping himself to Dr. Glover’s port. “He made it very vivid to me. It was a frightful choice for any man to face — whether to operate with his limited experience, or to leave his patient to die. I can’t think of anything more terrible. Your husband compelled my admiration, Mrs. Fenemore. He is a brave man.”
“Yes,” said Jane faintly. She knew David’s worth.
“He forced me to see his dilemma,” continued the surgeon. “I was sunk in self-pity. I felt that there was nothing more for me to do in the world; he showed me that there was still need for me, he woke me up. I see now that I must take a hand in things; there is work for me to do, work that only I can do.”
“I am glad,” Jane said simply.
“It is a painful process — the awakening,” continued Sir Arthur. “I have awakened to a strange world. A world governed by a maniac.” He leant across the table and looked at her gravely. “Do you think one would be justified in killing one man — or perhaps two — for the preservation of fifty people — or not?”
“Why do you ask me?”
“Because you are completely outside the whole thing,” he replied, twirling his glass thoughtf
ully and watching the red waves of wine running round the glass. “I’ve read your books — all of them — they show balance,” he added.
“I’ll think,” Jane cried, shivering suddenly; “you don’t want my answer now — I can’t give you one — like that. You’re putting too much upon me — if you really mean to act on my advice. Why don’t you wait and ask Sir Richard?”
“I can’t wait,” the surgeon replied. “If anything is to be done it must be done quickly. There are complications. It is not only a question of my freedom to do what any man in my position must do. It is a question of every man’s freedom. Wasn’t it Bishop Blougram who said:
“In every man’s career are certain points
On which he dares not be indifferent …
Thus he should wed the woman he loves most …
and … follow, at the least, sufficiently
The form of faith his conscience holds the best.”
Jane nodded thoughtfully.
“Freedom is the right of every man and woman,” continued Sir Arthur earnestly; “freedom to develop, freedom to choose his own path — provided, of course, he does not interfere with his neighbours. Shallowdale ought to be an ideal state, but it will never be that so long as Boddington rules it.”
“Sir Richard could advise you,” said Jane, who had sufficient knowledge of what was happening to follow Sir Arthur intelligently.
“I know Barton,” he replied. “Barton is an elderly man; he is bound by the fetters of convention. He would say I was not justified in — shall we say, eliminating Boddington.”
“And I am not — not conventional?”
“Women seldom are.”
Jane thought for a few minutes and then she said, “I think you should try every other way first.”
“I shall try every possible way first,” he agreed, “and I think I shall succeed.”
“You failed before,” Jane reminded him.
“I was only waking up then,” Sir Arthur said. “I told you it was a painful process. I didn’t see what I could do. I thought Boddington had the last word, but now I see differently, more clearly. Your husband woke me up with no gentle hand.”
“Why not take the easy way?” Jane asked. “David’s way. Let us all escape by aeroplane to-night —”
“No,” he replied. “No. I thought of that, but it is too easy. It is the selfish way, and I have been selfish long enough. It is not just that I must have my liberty — the others must have theirs. Boddington is mad. He must not be allowed to govern a community like this. Glover could do it —”
“Or you.”
“Or I,” agreed the surgeon gravely. “We shall not quarrel over that. If the people choose Glover, I shall be glad. It will not be easy. But to return to the problem: it is really two problems in one. My personal liberty and Boddington’s suppression. I can solve them both by a victory over Boddington.”
Jane saw that, but she could not see how the victory over Boddington was to be gained, and said so.
“I have an idea,” he said slowly. “It is a threat. I shall use it if persuasion fails.”
“What?” asked Jane eagerly.
The surgeon looked at Jane. “I will explain it to you,” he said. “My hold over Boddington — such as it is — exists in the fact that I am the only surgeon in the world. He is afraid. He has a fear that many people share — not healthy-minded people like you, of course, but nerve-ridden creatures whose lives seem valuable to themselves. This fear is the fear of death. Boddington fears death. He fears disease —”
“You would refuse to exercise your skill?” Jane said breathlessly.
“I could not do that,” he replied. “It would be impossible to me to allow anybody to die of a disease that was operable, but I could threaten to do so. The threat would be empty, I’m afraid, and any doctor would realise that it was empty.”
“But the Professor isn’t a doctor,” nodded Jane.
Sir Arthur laughed. “Not a real one,” he agreed.
CHAPTER
SIX
Revolution in Arcadia
It was four o’clock before everything was prepared for a rapid departure. Jane had been so busy helping Mrs. Glover that she had had no time to brood over her trouble. It was there, at the back of her mind; she was aware of the pain, the agony of loss — in her own mind she had already lost David — every smile he gave her was like a knife stabbing her heart. The whole party sat down to tea, there were seven of them, counting the boys. Mrs. Glover lifted the tea-pot and began to pour out.
At that moment silence was broken by a volley of shots; they looked at each other blankly.
“It has come!” exclaimed Dr. Glover, leaping to his feet. The other two men rose more slowly.
“Don’t go!” cried Jane and Mrs. Glover with one voice.
“I must, my dear,” Dr. Glover said: “Stay here and wait for us. Yes, I will be careful.”
“David!” cried Jane.
He laid one hand on her shoulder tenderly, and smiled into her upturned face. “Don’t worry, Jane,” he said.
They went out quickly, feeling for their revolvers, which, in this alarming new world, were never far distant from men’s hands.
As they went through the fields towards the Professor’s house, there was another volley of shots. Dr. Glover and David hung back a little; they had responsibilities — women who loved them, and whom they loved. Sir Arthur had nothing to lose; he had lost everything already; he strode on with the light of battle in his eye.
As they approached they saw a crowd of people retreating from the house into the kitchen garden which lay on the north side of the drive.
“We had better find out what has happened,” Sir Arthur said, turning to the left and making for the lower entrance of the gardens. The others followed him, fingering their revolvers.
David was cursing himself for getting mixed up in a business which was no concern of his. It was so unnecessary, and yet what could he have done? It was not in him to stand aside when there was any dangerous job on hand. He could not remember an occasion when he had wanted to do so. It was different, now, because he had Jane — at that thought a warm feeling of well-being flooded his heart — he must not get killed in this stupid business because of Jane — Heaven alone knew what would happen to Jane in this horrible new world if he were not there to protect her.
They found a small crowd gathered near the greenhouses. Crackling was sitting on the edge of a cucumber-frame having his arm dressed by one of the medical students; a nice-looking boy with fair curly hair. He waved to them with the other arm as they approached.
“Just in time to see the fun,” he shouted. “Come and have a look at my arm; Gibbons is practising on me.”
“Are you the only casualty?” enquired Sir Arthur, giving a cursory glance at the small flesh-wound, and signing to the student to bandage it up.
“The only one,” replied Crackling. “Here, aren’t you going to look at my wound properly, Sir Arthur?”
“Gibbons can do that,” replied the surgeon. “I shall reserve my energy.”
“Well, I hope we shan’t require so much of your energy,” Crackling said soberly. “It looks like serious business, I’m afraid; we’ve burnt our boats.”
“What happened?” enquired Dr. Glover.
“I’ll tell you the whole thing if you sit down a moment,” Crackling said. “It’s no use everybody talking at once. This is what happened. Franklin and I went up to the house this afternoon after Sir Arthur had left. We were shown into the office: there was Boddington sitting in state, and Paignton and Struthers — three loonies, that’s what they are. We told them straight out that we wouldn’t stand the new edict — none of us would — and that there would be trouble if they tried to enforce it. We told them we thought it the honest thing to do to speak up. Well, the next thing that happened was Boddington rang the bell and half a dozen guards appeared and threw us out. It took them all their time,” added Crackling, with a laugh.
“That was a foolish move!” exclaimed Dr. Glover.
“It brought things to a head,” agreed Crackling. “Franklin and I were — annoyed. We collected our forces and attacked the house. They shot at us from the windows. We shot back, of course, but you know how difficult it is — I don’t know whether we got anybody or not, probably not. Then the guards from the west gate appeared, and took us in the rear. It’s a wonder nobody got hurt except me, but their firing was a bit erratic. My own opinion, is, they were half-hearted — the guards I mean —”
“I saw one fellow firing in the air,” put in Franklin.
“Did you?” said Crackling with interest. “That looks good. Well, that’s about all, except that I’ve sent two men to cut off the water and electric power from the house, so they can’t hold out long.”
“How many are in the house?” Dr. Glover wanted to know.
“Let’s see,” said Crackling. “There are the three professors, and Marker, and the guards — oh, two of the guards came over to us! Where are they.”
“Here sir,” said a man in guard’s uniform, coming forward and saluting.
“Oh, there you are!” Crackling said. “What about your pals? Any chance of them coming over to us?”
“They’ll follow Major Keen,” the man said. “They’re scared of the Major — we all are. He’d shoot you as soon as look at you — if Major Keen wasn’t there —”
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