The Regent
Page 9
IV
The clock of Bleakridge Church, still imperturbably shining in thenight, showed a quarter to one when he saw it again on his hurried andguilty way home. The pavements were drying in the fresh night windand he had his overcoat buttoned up to the neck. He was absolutelysolitary in the long, muddy perspective of Trafalgar Road. He walkedbecause the last tram-car was already housed in its shed at the otherend of the world, and he walked quickly because his conscience drovehim onwards. And yet he dreaded to arrive, lest a wound in the child'sleg should have maliciously decided to fester in order to put him inthe wrong. He was now as apprehensive concerning that wound as Nellieherself had been at tea-time.
But, in his mind, above the dark gulf of anxiety, there floatedbrighter thoughts. Despite his fears and his remorse as a father, helaughed aloud in the deserted street when he remembered Mr. Bryany'svisage of astonishment upon uncreasing the note. Indubitably he hadmade a terrific and everlasting impression upon Mr. Bryany. He wassending Mr. Bryany out of the Five Towns a different man. He hadtaught Mr. Bryany a thing or two. To what brilliant use had he turnedthe purely accidental possession of a hundred-pound note! One of hisfinest inspirations--an inspiration worthy of the great days ofhis youth! Yes, he had had his hour that evening, and it had been aglorious one. Also, it had cost him a hundred pounds, and he didnot care; he would retire to bed with a net gain of two hundred andforty-one pounds instead of three hundred and forty-one pounds--thatwas all!
For he did not mean to take up the option. The ecstasy was coolednow and he saw clearly that London and theatrical enterprises thereinwould not be suited to his genius. In the Five Towns he was on his ownground; he was a figure; he was sure of himself. In London he would bea provincial, with the diffidence and the uncertainty of a provincial.Nevertheless, London seemed to be summoning him from afar off, and hedreamt agreeably of London as one dreams of the impossible East.
As soon as he opened the gate in the wall of his property he saw thatthe drawing-room was illuminated and all the other front rooms indarkness. Either his wife or his mother, then, was sitting up inthe drawing-room. He inserted a cautious latch-key into the doorand entered the silent home like a sinner. The dim light in the hallgravely reproached him. All his movements were modest and restrained.No noisy rattling of his stick now!
The drawing-room door was slightly ajar. He hesitated, and then,nerving himself, pushed against it.
Nellie, with lowered head, was seated at a table, mending, the imageof tranquillity and soft resignation. A pile of children's garmentslay by her side, but the article in her busy hands appeared to be anunder-shirt of his own. None but she ever reinforced the buttons onhis linen. Such was her wifely rule, and he considered that there wasno sense in it. She was working by the light of a single lamp on thetable, the splendid chandelier being out of action. Her economy in theuse of electricity was incurable, and he considered that there was nosense in that either.
She glanced up, with a guarded expression that might have meantanything.
He said:
"Aren't you trying your eyes?"
And she replied:
"Oh, no!"
Then, plunging, he came to the point:
"Well, doctor been?"
She nodded.
"What does he say?"
"It's quite all right. He did nothing but cover up the place with abit of cyanide gauze."
Instantly, in his own esteem, he regained perfection as a father. Ofcourse the bite was nothing! Had he not said so from the first? Had henot been quite sure throughout that the bite was nothing?
"Then why did you sit up?" he asked, and there was a faint righteouschallenge in his tone.
"I was anxious about you. I was afraid--"
"Didn't Stirling tell you I had some business?"
"I forget--"
"I told him to, anyhow.... Important business."
"It must have been," said Nellie, in an inscrutable voice.
She rose and gathered together her paraphernalia, and he saw that shewas wearing the damnable white apron. The close atmosphere of thehome enveloped and stifled him once more. How different was thisexasperating interior from the large jolly freedom of the Empire MusicHall, and from the whisky, cigarettes and masculinity of that privateroom at the Turk's Head!
"It was!" he repeated grimly and resentfully. "Very important! AndI'll tell you another thing. I shall probably have to go to London."
He said this just to startle her.
"It will do you all the good in the world," she replied angelically,but unstartled. "It's just what you need!" And she gazed at him asthough his welfare and felicity were her sole preoccupation.
"I meant I might have to stop there quite a while," he insisted.
"If you ask me," she said, "I think it would do us all good."
So saying, she retired, having expressed no curiosity whatever as tothe nature of the very important business in London.
For a moment, left alone, he was at a loss. Then, snorting, he went tothe table and extinguished the lamp. He was now in darkness. The lightin the hall showed him the position of the door.
He snorted again. "Oh, very well then!" he muttered. "If that's it!...I'm hanged if I don't go to London!... I'm hanged if I don't go toLondon!"
CHAPTER III
WILKINS'S