The Unspeakable Gentleman

by John P. Marquand

  VII

  Something was pressing on my shoulder, thrusting me slowly intoconsciousness. Half awake, I wrenched myself free, snatching for my swordas I did so. It was a chill and cloudy morning, and Brutus was standingby my bed, holding a bowl of chocolate between a thumb and forefinger,that made the piece of china look as delicately fragile as a flower.

  "Eleven o'clock," he said. "You sleep late."

  I looked at him blankly, still trying to shake off the drowsiness thatcrowded upon me. It seemed only a few minutes back that he had lightedme to that room. He must have detected a shade of suspicion in the lookI gave him.

  "Too much wine," said Brutus quickly.

  But when he spoke, I knew it was not wine that made me sleep the wholenight through. He thrust the bowl he was holding nearer to me.

  "And now you poison me," I remarked, but he shook his head inemphatic negation.

  "Hah!" he grunted, and emitted a curious chuckle that caused me to givehim my full attention.

  "You find the morning amusing, Brutus?" I asked.

  He gulped and nodded in assent.

  "Last night you kill me. Now I give you chocolate. He! He!"

  I glanced at him over the edge of the chocolate bowl. It was the firsttime I had heard anyone laugh at so truly a Christian doctrine.

  "Monsieur sends compliments," he said.

  "Brutus," came my father's voice across the hall, "tell him I will seehim as soon as he has finished dressing."

  He was sitting before his fire, wrapped in a dressing gown of Chinesesilk, embroidered with flowers. By the tongs and shovel lay a pair ofriding boots, still so wet and mud-spattered that he must have pulledthem off within the hour. A decanter of rum was near him on a stand. Onhis knee was a volume of Rabelais, which was affording him decorousamusement.

  Brutus was busy gathering up the gray satin small clothes of the previousday, which had been tossed in a careless heap on the floor, and Iperceived that they also bore the marks of travel. Careful mentors, whohad taken a lively pleasure in their teaching, had been at pains to tellme that he was a man of irregular habits. Yet with indulgent politenesshe remained blandly reticent. For him the day seemed to have startedafresh, independent and unrelated to other days. It had awakened in him agenial spirit, far brighter than the morning. He greeted me with a gaywave of the hand and a nod of invitation towards the rum. My refusalserved only to increase his courteous good nature.

  "A very good morning to you, my son," he said. "So you have slept. Gad,how I envy you! It is hard to be a man of affairs and still rest with anyregularity."

  He waved me to a chair in a slow, sweeping gesture, timed and directed sothat it ended at the rum decanter.

  "You will pardon my addressing you through Brutus," he continuedconfidentially, "but it is a habit of mine which I find it hard to break.I am eccentric, my son. I never speak to anyone of a morning till I havefinished my cup of chocolate. I have seen too many quarrels flare up overan empty stomach."

  He stretched a foot nearer the blaze, and smiled comfortably at thehissing back log.

  "And it would be a pity to have a falling out on such a morning as this,a very great pity, to be sure."

  The very thought of it seemed to give him pause for pleased, thoughthoughtful contemplation, for he sipped his rum in silence until thetumbler was half empty.

  "Once in Bordeaux," he volunteered at last, "there was a man whom I fearI provoked quite needlessly--all because I was walking in the garden witha headache, and my chocolate was late--Lay out the other shirt, Brutus, Imust be well dressed today. What was it I was saying?"

  "That you were walking in the garden with a headache," I reminded him."Surely you had something better to walk with near at hand?"

  He shrugged his shoulders, drained his glass, and wiped his fingerscarefully on a cambric handkerchief.

  "Either that or my conscience," he replied, "and oddly enough, Ipreferred the headache. He might have been alive today if I had had mychocolate. Poor man!" he sighed.

  "You wanted to see me?" I asked, "or simply to impress me?"

  He raised a hand in shocked denial.

  "Pray do not believe I am so vulgar," he replied. "Yes, I wished to seeyou, Henry, for two reasons. First, I was absentminded last evening. Ifind I do not know the name of the gentleman with whom you had thefalling out. If you tell me--who knows--the world is small."

  He waited expectantly, and I smiled at him. I had hoped he would ask me.

  "You really care to know his name?"

  "It might be useful," he confessed. "As I said--who knows? Perhaps we mayhave something in common--some little mutual interest."

  "I am sure you have," I told him. "The man I fought with was Mr.Lawton--at my uncle's country house."

  For a fraction of a second I thought he was astonished. I thought thatthe look he gave was almost one of respect, but it was hard to tell.

  "And you wounded him?" he asked quickly.

  "I hardly think Mr. Lawton expected it," I acknowledged.

  "I fear," he mused, "that the years are telling on Mr. Lawton--and yourUncle Jason knew of this unpleasantness?"

  "Not until afterwards."

  "Of course he was shocked?"

  I nodded. "You had another reason for seeing me?" I asked.

  "Yes," he replied, "a simple one. I did not want you to go downstairstill I went with you. Another cup of chocolate, Brutus. This morning, myson, I am consuming two cups of chocolate instead of one."

  "You expect to find me irritable?" I suggested.

  He shook his head in smiling contradiction.

  "It is because I have a surprise in store for you. Who do you think hascome to see me?"

  "I am utterly at a loss," I said, bowing, "unless it is the constable."

  "On the contrary," he replied, "it is the man I hate more than anyoneelse in the world."

  Only his words, however, hinted that the contingency was unpleasant. Histone was one of pleased anticipation. He hummed a little tune, as Brutusknelt before him to help him on with a new pair of top boots, spotlessand shining.

  A few minutes later he stood before his mirror critically examining acoat of blue broadcloth. It evidently satisfied him, for he smiled backindulgently at his image in the glass, and watched complacently whileBrutus smoothed its folds.

  "A gentleman should always have twenty coats," he remarked, turningtoward me. "Personally, I never travel with less than twenty-five--apoint in my favor, is it not, my son?"

  "And when we remember the lady who accompanies the coats--" I bowed, andhe turned slowly back to the mirror.

  "Let us trust," he replied coldly, "you will not be obliged to remindyourself often that she is a lady, and that she shall be treated as oneboth by you and by me as long as she remains beneath this roof."

  I felt a pleasing sense of triumph at the success of my remark, andabruptly determined to drive it home.

  "Sir," I said, "You astound me."

  "Astound you?" He left his neckcloth half undone, and stepped towardme, alertly courteous. "You mean you take exception to what I havejust said?"

  "Indeed not," I replied, with another bow. "I find you changed thismorning--into a good example instead of a bad one."

  And then before he could reply, I leaned over the chair he had quitted.Lying in the corner of the faded upholstery was an oval of gold. Beforehe perceived my intention, I had picked it up, and almost at the samemoment his hand fell on my arm. I looked up quickly. His face was closeto mine, closer than I had ever seen it, placid still, but somehowchanged, somehow so subtly different that I wrenched myself free, andstepped a pace away. Brutus dropped the coat he was folding, and shuffledforward hastily.

  "How careless of me to have left it there," said my father gently. "Handme the locket, if you please, my son, and many thanks for picking it up."

  The jewelled clasp was under my thumb I pressed it, and the gold locket Iwas holding flew open, but before I could look further, he had struck asharp blow at my wrist,
and the locket fell from my hand.

  "Pick it up, Brutus," he said, his eyes never leaving mine, and wewatched each other for a second in silence.

  "Come," he said, "let us go down stairs. You may find it instructive tosee how I treat my enemies."

  "I am afraid," I said slowly, "that you will do better without me."

  Slowly the thin line of his lips relaxed, and he raised his hands toadjust his neckcloth.

  "Your episode with Mr. Lawton makes me quite sure of it," he answered, ina tone he might have used to an ambitious school boy. "But you forget.You are still pursuing part of your education. Never, never neglect anopportunity to learn, my son. Something tells me even now you will berepaid for your trouble. Come, we are late already."

  So I followed him down the, creaking stairs to the morning room. I couldnot suppress a start as I passed over the threshold. In front of ourheavy mahogany table, attentively examining some maps and charts that hadbeen scattered there, was my Uncle Jason.