by M. P. Shiel
III
THE HUNTING-CROP
Along the towing-path to the farmhouse. He did not look behind: was likea man who has received a wound, and wonders whence.
A pallor lay under his brown skin, brown almost as an Oriental's, and hewas called "the Black Hogarth"--the Hogarths being Saxon, on the mantelin the dining-room being a very simple coat--a Bull on Gules. ButRichard was a startling exception. His hair grew away flat and sparsefrom his round brow; on his cheeks three moles, jet-black in theircentre. Handsome one called his hairless face: the nose delicate,the lips negroid in their thick pout, the left eye red, streaked withbloodshot, the eyes' brown brightness very beautiful and strange, witha sideward stare wild as that sideward stare of the race-horse; and thelids had a way of lifting largely anon.
He passed through Lagden Dip orchard into the old homestead, into thedining-room, where cowered the old Hogarth, smoking, his hair a mist ofwool-white.
He glanced up, but said nothing; and Richard said nothing, but walkedabout, his arms folded, frowning turbulently, while the twilightdeepened, and Margaret did not come.
Now he planted a chair near the old man, sat, and shouted: "Listen,sir!"
Up went the old Hogarth's hand to push forward the inquiring ear,while Richard, who, till now, had guarded him from all knowledge of theCircular, snatched it from his breast-pocket, and loudly read.
As the sense entered his head, up the old man shot his palms, shakingfrom them astonishment and deprecation, with nods; then, with openingarms, and an under-look at Richard: "Well, there is nothing to be said:the land is his...."
Hogarth leapt up and walked out; he muttered: "The land is his, but heis mine...."
The question at the bottom of his mind had been this: "Does _Margaret_,too, go with the land?" But he did not utter it even to himself: wentout, fingering the crop, stalking toward the spot where he had left theman and the woman. But Margaret was then coming through the wood;Frankl had gone up to the Hall; and Hogarth crossed the bridge and wentclimbing toward the mansion.
It was a Friday evening, and up at the Hall the Sabbath had commenced,two Sabbath-tapers shining now upon the Mezuzzah at the dining-roomdoor, Frankl being of the Cohanim, the priestly class--a Jew of Jews. Ashe had passed in, two Moghrabim Jews had saluted him with: "Shabbath";and mildly he had replied: "Shabbath".
But swift upon his steps strode Hogarth: Hogarth was at thelodge-gates--was on the drive--was in the hall.
But, since Frankl was just preparing to celebrate the _kiddush_, "Hecannot be seen now", said a man in the hall.
"He must", said Hogarth.
As he brushed past, two men raised an outcry: but Hogarth continuedhis swift way, and had half traversed a _salon_ hung with a chaos ofcut-glass when from a side-door appeared the inquiring face of Frankl inpious skull-cap.
"What is it?" he cried--"I cannot be seen--"
He recognized the man of the towing-path, and on his face grew a look ofscare, as he backed toward a study: but before he could slam the door,Hogarth, too, was within.
"Who are you? What is it?" whined Frankl, who was both hard master andcringing slave.
Hogarth produced the Circular: but of Margaret not a word.
"Caps-and-tassels, you?"--flicking Frankl on the cheek with a fillip ofhis middle finger.
"You dare assault me! Why, I swear, I meant no harm--"
Down came the whip upon the Jew's shoulders, Frankl, as the stingspenetrated his caftan, giving out one roar, and the next instant, seeingthe two Jews at the doorway, groaned the mean whisper: "Oh, don't make aman look small before the servants", crying out immediately: "Help!"
Soon five or six servants were at the door, and, of these, two Arab Jewsrushed forward, one a tall fellow, the other an obese bulk with brightblack eyes, the former holding a slender blade--the knife with which"shechita", or slaughtering, was done: and while the corpulent Jew threwhimself upon Hogarth, the other drew this knife through the flesh ofHogarth's shoulder, at the same time happening to cut the heavy Arabacross the wrist.
Now, there was some quarrel between the two Arabs, and the injured Arab,forgetting Hogarth, turned fiercely upon his fellow.
Hogarth, meanwhile, had not let go Frankl, nor delivered the intendednumber of cuts: so he was again standing with uplifted whip, when hiseye happened to fall upon the doorway.
He saw there a sight which struck his arm paralysed: Rebekah Frankl.
Two months had she been here at Westring--and he had not known it!
There she stood peering, of a divine beauty in his eyes, likehalf-mythical queens of Egypt and Babylon, blinking in a ratherbarbarous superfluity of jewels: and, blinded and headlong, he was inflight.
As for Frankl, he locked that door upon himself, and remained there,forgetting the sanctification of the Sabbath.
The Hebrew's eyes blazed like a wild beast's. The words: "As the Lordliveth..." hissed in whispers from his lips.
He took up a pinch of old ashes, and cast it into the air.
As Shimei, the son of Gera, cursed David, so he cursed Richard Hogarththat night--again and again--with grave rites, with cancerous rancour.
"I will blight him, as the Lord liveth; as the Lord liveth, I willblight him..." he said repeatedly, his draperied arms spread in pompousimprecation.
As a beginning, he sat and wrote to Reid's Bank, requesting the paymentin gold of L14,000--to produce a stoppage of payment at the little Bankin which were Richard's savings.
Afterwards, with mild eyes he repaired to the dining-hall, andsanctified the Sabbath, blessing a cup of wine, dividing up two napkinedloaves, and giving to Rebekah his benediction.