The Old Adam: A Story of Adventure

by Arnold Bennett

  II.

  "Well," said Edward Henry, "shall I tell you what I've decided?"

  "Please do!" Rose Euclid entreated him.

  "I've decided to make you a present of my half of the option."

  "But aren't you going in with us?" exclaimed Rose, horror-struck.

  "No, madam."

  "But Mr. Bryany told us positively you were! He said it was allarranged!"

  "Mr. Bryany ought to be more careful," said Edward Henry. "If hedoesn't mind, he'll be telling a downright lie some day."

  "But you bought half the option!"

  "Well," said Edward Henry, reasoning. "What _is_ an option? What doesit mean? It means you are free to take something or leave it. I'mleaving it."

  "But why?" demanded Mr. Marrier, gloomier.

  Carlo Trent played with his eye-glasses and said not a word.

  "Why?" Edward Henry replied. "Simply because I feel I'm not fitted forthe job. I don't know enough. I don't understand. I shouldn't go theright way about the affair. For instance, I should never have guessedby myself that it was the proper thing to settle the name of the theatrebefore you'd got the lease of the land you're going to build it on.Then I'm old-fashioned. I hate leaving things to the last moment; butseemingly there's only one proper moment in these theatrical affairs,and that's the very last. I'm afraid there'd be too much trusting inProvidence for my taste. I believe in trusting in Providence, but Ican't bear to see Providence overworked. And I've never even tried tobe intellectual, and I'm a bit frightened of poetry plays--"

  "But you've not read my play!" Carlo Trent mutteringly protested.

  "That is so," admitted Edward Henry.

  "Will you read it?"

  "Mr. Trent," said Edward Henry. "I'm not so young as I was."

  "We're ruined!" sighed Rose Euclid with a tragic gesture.

  "Ruined?" Edward Henry took her up, smiling. "Nobody is ruined whoknows where he can get a square meal. Do you mean to tell me you don'tknow where you're going to lunch to-morrow?" And he looked hard at her.

  It was a blow. She blenched under it.

  "Oh, yes," she said, with her giggle, "I know that."

  ("Well you just don't!" he answered her in his heart. "You think you'regoing to lunch with John Pilgrim. And you aren't. And it serves youright!")

  "Besides," he continued aloud, "how can you say you're ruined when I'mmaking you a present of something that I paid L100 for?"

  "But where am I to find the other half of the money--L2,250?" she burstout. "We were depending absolutely on you for it. If I don't get it,the option will be lost, and the option's very valuable."

  "All the easier to find the money then!"

  "What? In less than twenty-four hours? It can't be done. I couldn'tget it in all London."

  "Mr. Marrier will get it for you ... one of his certainties!" EdwardHenry smiled in the Five Towns' manner.

  "I might, you knaoo!" said Marrier, brightening to full hope in thefraction of a second.

  But Rose Euclid only shook her head.

  "Mr. Seven Sachs, then?" Edward Henry suggested.

  "I should have been delighted," said Mr. Sachs with the most perfectgracious tranquillity. "But I cannot find another L2,250 to-morrow."

  "I shall just speak to that Mr. Bryany!" said Rose Euclid, in theaccents of homicide.

  "I think you ought to," Edward Henry concurred. "But that won't helpthings. I feel a little responsible, especially to a lady. You have aquarter of the whole option left in your hands, Miss Euclid. I'll payyou at the same rate as Bryany sold to me. I gave L100 for half. Yourquarter is therefore worth L50. Well, I'll pay you L50."

  "And then what?"

  "Then let the whole affair slide."

  "But that won't help me to my theatre!" Rose Euclid said, pouting. Shewas now decidedly less unhappy than her face pretended, because EdwardHenry had reminded her of Sir John Pilgrim, and she had dreams of worldtriumphs for herself and for Carlo Trent's play. She was almost glad tobe rid of all the worry of the horrid little prospective theatre.

  "I have bank-notes," cooed Edward Henry softly.

  Her head sank.

  Edward Henry rose in the incomparable yellow dressing-gown and walked toand fro a little, and then from his secret store he produced a bundle ofnotes, and counted out five tens and, coming behind Rose, stretched outhis arm and laid the treasure on the table in front of her under thebrilliant chandelier.

  "I don't want you to feel you have anything against me," he cooed stillmore softly.

  Silence reigned. Edward Henry resumed his chair and gazed at RoseEuclid. She was quite a dozen years older than his wife, and she lookedmore than a dozen years older. She had no fixed home, no husband, nochildren, no regular situation. She accepted the homage of young men,who were cleverer than herself save in one important respect. She wasalways in and out of restaurants and hotels and express trains. She wasalways committing hygienic indiscretions. She could not refrain from acertain girlishness which, having regard to her years, her waist, andher complexion, was ridiculous. His wife would have been afraid of her,and would have despised her, simultaneously. She was coarsened by thecontinual gaze of the gaping public. No two women could possibly be moreutterly dissimilar than Rose Euclid and the cloistered Nellie.... Andyet, as Rose Euclid's hesitant fingers closed on the bank-notes with agesture of relief, Edward Henry had an agreeable and kindly sensationthat all women were alike, after all, in the need of a shield, aprotection, a strong and generous male hand. He was touched by thespectacle of Rose Euclid, as naive as any young lass when confronted byactual bank-notes; and he was touched also by the thought of Nellie andthe children afar off, existing in comfort and peace, but utterly,wistfully, dependent on himself.

  "And what about me?" growled Carlo Trent.

  "You?"

  The fellow was only a poet. He negligently dropped him five fivers, hisshare of the option's value.

  Mr. Marrier said nothing, but his eye met Edward Henry's, and in silencefive fivers were meted out to Mr. Marrier also.... It was so easy todelight these persons who apparently seldom set eyes on real readymoney.

  "You might sign receipts, all of you, just as a matter of form," saidEdward Henry.

  A little later, the three associates were off.

  "As we're both in the hotel, Mr. Sachs," said Edward Henry, "you mightstay for a chat and a drink."

  Mr. Seven Sachs politely agreed.

  Edward Henry accompanied the trio of worshippers and worshipped to thedoor of his suite, but no further, because of his dressing-gown. RoseEuclid had assumed a resplendent opera-cloak. They rang imperially forthe lift. Lackeys bowed humbly before them. They spoke of taxicabs andother luxuries. They were perfectly at home in the grandeur of thehotel. As the illuminated lift carried them down out of sight, theirsmiling heads disappearing last, they seemed exactly like persons ofextreme wealth. And indeed for the moment they were wealthy. They hadparted with certain hopes, but they had had a windfall; and two of themwere looking forward with absolute assurance to a profitable meal anddeal with Sir John Pilgrim on the morrow.

  "Funny place, London!" said the provincial to himself as he re-enteredhis suite to rejoin Mr. Seven Sachs.