by W. W. Jacobs
In a full and confident note, "Uncle," he said, "you have beendeceived!"
His words let loose a torrent upon him.
Mr. Marrapit with one arm clasped to his breast the cat he had raisedfrom Mrs. Major's lap. Alternately raising and lowering the other hand,his white hair seeming to stream, his eyes flashing, he took on, toGeorge's eyes, the appearance of an enraged prophet bellowing over thecities of the Plain.
"I _have_ been deceived!" he cried. "You are right. Though you have theforked tongue of an adder, yet you speak truly. I have been deceived.Woe is me for I have been most wickedly deceived by those who eat of mybread, who lie beneath my roof. I have cherished vipers in my bosom, andthey have stung me. Bitterly have I been deceived."
He paused. A low moan from Mrs. Major, handkerchief to eyes, voiced theeffect of his speech upon her; in racking sniffs Mary's emotion foundvent. But upon George the outburst had a cooling result--he was certainof his ground.
He said solidly: "That's all rot."
"Rot!" cried Mr. Marrapit.
"Yes, rot. You work yourself up into such a state when you get likethis, that you don't know what you're talking about--vipers and all thatkind of thing. When you've calmed down and understand things, perhapsyou'll be sorry. I tell you you've been deceived. That's not the Roseyou've got hold of. This is the Rose. Someone has made a fool of you.Someone--"
Between two violent sniffs, "Oh, George, don't, don't!" came from hisMary.
Startled, George checked.
"Monster, be careful," said Mr. Marrapit. "Beware how much deeper youenmire yourself in the morass of your evil. Put down that miserablecreature you hold. I place Mrs. Major's Rose beside it. Look upon them."
George looked. With staring eyes he gazed upon the two cats. With archedtails they advanced to exchange compliments, and the nearer they stoodtogether the less Rose-like became the cat he had brought into the room.For the cat that Mr. Marrapit had produced--Mrs. Major's cat, as hecalled it--was the Rose herself; could be none other, and none other(when thus placed alongside) could be she.
Struck unconscious to his surroundings by this appalling spectacle,George slowly stooped towards the cats as though hypnotised by theorange coats. His eyes goggled further from his head; the blood wentthumping in his temples. He was aghast and horror-struck with thestupefaction that comes of effort to disbelieve the eyes. But he diddisbelieve his eyes. How possibly trust them when from the Rose's verybed he had taken the Rose herself and held her till now when he producedher? He did disbelieve his eyes.
He gave Mrs. Major's cat a careless pat. By an effort throwing acareless tone into his voice, "A very good imitation," he said. "Not atall unlike the Rose!"
Mr. Marrapit became an alarming sight. He intook an enormous breath thatswelled him dangerously. He opened his lips and the air rushed out withroaring sound. Again he inspired, raised his clenched hands above hishead, stood like some great tottering image upon the brink of internalexplosion.
As upon a sudden thought, he checked the bursting words that threatenedfrom his lips; allowed his pent-up breath to escape inarticulate; to hisnormal size and appearance shrank back when it was gone.
With an air of ebbing doubt, "Not at all unlike?" he questioned.
George replied briskly. He forced himself to take confidence, thoughevery moment made yet more difficult the struggle to disbelieve what hiseyes told him. "Not at all unlike," he affirmed. "Very similar, in fact.Yes, I should say very similar indeed."
Still in the same tone of one who is being reluctantly convinced, Mr.Marrapit again played Echo's part: "Very similar indeed? You grantthat?"
"Certainly," George admitted frankly. "Certainly. I do not wonder youwere mistaken."
"Nor I," Mr. Marrapit smoothly replied. "Indeed, in Mrs. Major's cat Idetect certain signs which my Rose has long borne but which she has nolonger, if the cat you bring is she?"
"Eh?" said George.
"Certain signs," Mr. Marrapit repeated, with the smoothness of flowingoil, "which I recollect in my Rose. The mark, for example, where herleft ear was abrased by Mr. Wyvern's blood-thirsty bull-terrier."
George stooped to the cats. Pointing, he cried triumphantly: "Yes, andthere is the mark!"
"Yes," Mr. Marrapit pronounced mildly. "Yes, but you are now looking atMrs. Major's cat."
"Hem!" said Mrs. Major. "Hem!"
Like one who has stepped upon hot iron George started back, staredaghast. A further "hem," with which a chuckle was mixed, came from Mrs.Major; from my collapsed Mary upon the edge of the sofa a sniff that wasmingled groan and sob.
George put a hand to his head. This young man's senses were ajostle andawhirl. Well he remembered that mark which by disastrous blunder he hadindicated on Mrs. Major's cat; vainly he sought it on his own. Yet hiswas the Rose. Was this a nightmare, then, and no true thing? He put hishand to his head.
"Looking at Mrs. Major's cat," repeated Mr. Marrapit, his tone smooth asthe trickle of oil.
George fought on. "Quite so. Quite so. I know that. That is what makesit so extraordinary--that this cat which you call Mrs. Major's and thinkis the Rose should have the very mark that our Rose had."
"But our Rose has not--if that is she."
"Ah! not now," George said impressively. "Not now. It healed. Healedmonths ago. Don't you remember my saying one morning, 'The Rose's ear isquite healed now'?"
"I do not, sir," snapped Mr. Marrapit, with alarming sharpness.
"Oh!" said George. "Oh!"
"Hem!" fired Mrs. Major. "Hem! Hem!"
"That tail," spoke Mr. Marrapit, a sinister hardness now behind theoiliness. "Mark those tails."
George marked. To this young man's disordered mind the room took on theappearance of a forest of waving tails.
"Well?" rapped Mr. Marrapit. "You note those tails? Mrs. Major's cat hasa verdant tail, a bush-like tail. Yours has a rat tail. Do you recollectmy pride in the luxuriousness of the Rose's tail?"
George blundered along the path he had chosen. "Formerly," he said, "notlatterly. Latterly, if you remember, there was a remarkable falling offin the Rose's tail. Her tail moulted. It shed hairs. I remember worryingover it. I remember--"
A voice from the sofa froze him. "Oh, George, don't, don't!" moaned hisMary.
Recovering his horror, he turned stiffly upon her. "If you mean me, MissHumfray, you forget yourself. I do not understand you. Kindly recollectthat I have another name."
The hideous frown he bent upon his Mary might well have advertisedthe sincerity of his rebuke. He faced Mr. Marrapit, blundered on. "Iremember noticing how thin the Rose's tail was getting." He gatheredconfidence, pushed ahead. "You have forgotten those little points, sir.Upset by your loss you have jumped at the first cat like the Rose thatyou have seen." He took new courage, became impressive. "You are makinga fearful mistake, sir--an awful mistake. A mistake at which you willshudder when you look back--"
"Incredible!"
Mr. Marrapit, swelling as a few moments earlier he had swollen, thistime burst to speech. He raised his clenched fists; in immense volume ofsound exploded. "Incredible!"
George misinterpreted; was shaken, but hurried on. "It is. I admit it.It is an incredible likeness. But look again, sir."
Mr. Marrapit gave instead a confused scream.
Alarmed, George made as if to plunge on with further protests. "George!George!" from his Mary checked him. Furious, he turned upon her; and inthat moment Mr. Marrapit, recovering words, turned to Mrs. Major.
"As you have restored my treasure to my house, Mrs. Major, so nowsilence this iniquitous man by telling him what you have told me. Iimplore speed. Silence him. Utterly confound him. Stop him from furtherperjury before an outraged Creator rains thunderbolts upon this roof."
With a telling "Hem!" the masterly woman cleared for action. "I will,Mr. Marrapit," she bowed. She murmured "Rosie, Rosie, ickle Rosie!" Thecat Mr. Marrapit had lifted from her lap sprang back to that enticingcushion.
Gently stroking its queenly back, to t
he soft accompaniment of itsmajestic purr, in acid-tipped accents she began to speak.
She pointed at the cat that now sat at George's crime-steeped boots."When I was out this morning I found that cat in a little copse on theShipley Road. At first I thought it was our darling Rose. Suddenly Iheard voices. I did not wish to be seen, because, dear Mr. Marrapit, ifit was the Rose I had found, I wanted to bring it to you alone--to bethe first to make you happy. So I slipped into a disused hut that standsthere. Footsteps approached the door and I went into an inner room."
Mrs. Major paused; shot a stabbing smile at George.
And now my miserable George realised. Now, visible at last, there rushedupon him, grappled him, strangled him, the sinister something whosepresence he had scented on entering the apartment. No sound came fromthis stricken man. He could not speak, nor move, nor think. Rooted heremained; dully gazed at the thin lips whence poured the flood thatengulfed and that was utterly to wreck him.
The masterly woman continued. She indicated the rooted figure in themiddle of the room, the collapsed heap upon the sofa's edge. "Those twoentered. He had a basket. Oh, what were my feelings when out of it hetook our darling Rose!"
For the space of two minutes the masterly woman advertised the emotionsshe had suffered by burying her face in the Rose's coat; rocking gently.
Emerging, she gulped her agitation; proceeded. "I need not repeat againall the dreadful story I heard, Mr. Marrapit? Surely I need not?"
"You need not," Mr. Marrapit told her. "You need not."
With a masterly half-smile, expressive of gratitude through greatsuffering, Mrs. Major thanked him. "Indeed," she went on, "I did nothear the whole of it. It was so dreadful, I was so horrified, that Ithink I fainted. Yes, I fainted. But I heard them discuss how he hadstolen the Rose so they might marry on the reward when it was bigenough. He had kept the darling till then; now it was her turn to takecharge of it--"
Mrs. Major ceased with a jerk, drew in her legs preparatory to flight.
For the rooted figure had sprung alarmingly to life. George would nothave his darling Mary blackened. He took a stride to Mrs. Major; hispose threatened her. "That's untrue!" he thundered.
"Ho!" exclaimed Mrs. Major. "Ho! A liar to my face! Ho!"
"And you are a liar," George stormed, "when you say--"
"Silence!" commanded Mr. Marrapit. "Do not anger heaven yet further. Canyou still deny--?"
"No!" George said very loudly. "No! No! I deny nothing. But that woman'sa liar when she says Miss Humfray discussed the business with me, orthat it was Miss Humfray's turn to take the damned cat. Miss Humfrayknew nothing about it till I told her. When she heard she said it waswrong and tried to make me take the cat back to you."
In his wrath George had advanced close to Mrs. Major. He stretched aviolent finger to an inch from her nose. "That's true, isn't it? Havethe grace to admit that."
Indomitable of purpose, the masterly woman pressed back her head as faras the chair would allow, tightened her lips.
The violent finger followed. "Say it's true!" George boiled.
His Mary implored: "Oh, George, don't, don't!"
The furious young man flamed on to her. "Be quiet!"
Mr. Marrapit began a sound. The furious young man flamed to him: "You bequiet, too!" He thrust the dreadful finger at Mrs. Major. "Now speak thetruth. Had Miss Humfray anything to do with it?"
This tremendous George had temporary command of the room. The masterlywoman for once quailed. "I didn't hear that part," she said.
George drew in the fearful finger. "That's as good as the truth--fromyou." He rounded upon Mr. Marrapit. "You understand that. This has beenmy show."
"A blackguard show," pronounced Mr. Marrapit. "A monstrous and animpious show. A--"
"I don't want to hear that. Whatever it is you are the cause of it. Ifyou had done your duty with my mother's money--"
A figure passed the open French windows along the path. Mr. Marrapitshouted "Fletcher!" The gardener entered.
"But you've betrayed your trust," George shouted. He liked the finephrase and repeated it. "You've betrayed your trust!"
Mr. Marrapit assumed his most collected air. "Silence. Silence, man ofsin. Leave the house. Return thanks where thanks are due if I do nothound the law upon you. Take that girl. That miserable cat take. Hence!"
Mary got to her feet, put a hand on her George's arm. "Do come, dear."
The wild young man shook her off. "I'll go when it pleases me!" heshouted at Mr. Marrapit.
"You shall be arrested," Mr. Marrapit returned. He addressed Mary."Place that cat in that basket Carry it away."
George stood, heaving, panting, boiling for effective words, whilehis Mary did as bade. Awful visions of her George, fettered betweenpolicemen, trembled her pretty fingers. At last she had the basketstrapped, raised it.
"Come, George," she said; and to Mr. Marrapit, "I'm so sorry, Mr.Marrapit. I--"
It gave her furious George a vent. "Sorry! What are you sorry about?What have you done?" He roared over to Mrs. Major: "What other lies haveyou been telling?" He lashed himself at Mr. Marrapit. "Set the law onme? I jolly well hope you will. It will all come out then how you'vebehaved--how you've treated me. How you've betrayed--"
"Fletcher," Mr. Marrapit interrupted, "remove that man. Take him out.Thrust him from the house."
"Me?" said Mr. Fletcher. "Me thrust him? I'm a gardener, I am; not a--"
"Duty or dismissal," pronounced Mr. Marrapit. "Take choice." He turnedto the window. "Come, Mrs. Major."
George dashed for him. "You're not going till I've done with you!"
Violence was in his tone, passion in his face.
Alarmed, "Beware how you touch me!" called Mr. Marrapit; caught Mr.Fletcher, thrust him forward. "Grapple him!" cried Mr. Marrapit.
Mr. Fletcher was violently impelled against George; to save a fallclutched him. "Don't make a scene, Mr. George," he implored.
George pushed him away. Mr. Fletcher trod back heavily upon Mr.Marrapit's foot. Mr. Marrapit screamed shrilly, plunged backwards into acabinet, overturned it, sat heavily upon its debris.
A laugh overcame George's fury. He swung on his heel; called "Come" tohis Mary; stalked from the house.
As they passed through the gate, "Oh, Georgie!" his Mary breathed. "Oh,Georgie!"
He raged on to her: "What on earth made you say you were sorry? You'veno spirit, Mary! No spirit!"
The tremendous young man stalked ahead with huge strides.
* * * * *
In deep melancholy, sore beneath the correction Mr. Marrapit had heapedupon him, Mr. Fletcher wandered from the study; turned as he reached thepath. "Me grapple him!" said Mr. Fletcher. "Me a craven! Me thrusthim from the house! It's 'ard--damn 'ard. I'm a gardener, I am; not aJu-jitsu."
CHAPTER VI.
Agony In Meath Street.
I.
Silent, gloom-ridden, my sniffing Mary, my black-browed George labouredto the station. Silent they sat upon a bench waiting the London train.
George bought his Mary a piece of chocolate from the automatic machine;she was a forlorn picture as with tiny nibbles she ate it, tears in herpretty eyes. In the restaurant George bought himself a huge cigar. Thisman was a desperate spectacle as with huge puffs he smoked, hands deepin pockets, legs thrust straight, brows horribly knitted.
They had no words.
The train came in. George found an empty compartment; helped his poorMary to a corner; roughly dumped the cat-basket upon the rack; moodilyplumped opposite his Mary.
They had no words.
It was as the train moved from the third stop that Mary, putting a giantsniff upon her emotions, asked her George: "Wher--where are we going,dear?"
It was not until the fifth stop that George made answer. "ThoseBattersea digs," he told her.
They had no words.
At Queen's Road station gloomily they alighted; silently laboured to thehouse of Mrs. Pinking.
George answe
red her surprise. "Miss Humfray will have these rooms again,Mrs. Pinking, if you will be so kind; and I--" He checked. "Could youlet us have some tea, Mrs. Pinking? Afterwards I'll have a talk withyou. We've got into a--We're very tired. If you could just let us havesome tea, then I'll explain."
In silence they ate and drank. George was half turned from the table,gloomily gazing from the window. Tiny sniffs came from his Mary; he hadno words for her; looked away.
But presently there was a most dreadful choking sound. He sprangaround. Most painfully his Mary was spluttering over a cup of tea. Withtrembling hands she put down the cup; her face was red, convulsivelyworking.
George half rose to her. "Don't cry, darling Mary-kins. Don't cry."
She set down the cup; swallowed; gasped, "I'm not crying--I'mla-laughing," and into a pipe of gayest mirth she went.
Gloom gathered its sackcloth skirts; scuttled from the room.
George roared with laughter; rocked and roared again. When he couldget a catch upon his mirth there was the clear pipe of his Mary's glee,clear, compelling, setting him off again. When she would gasp for breaththere was her dear George, head in those brown hands, shaking withtremendous laughter--and she must start again.
She gasped: "George! If you could have seen yourself standing theretelling those awful stories--!"
He gasped: "When I mistook the cats--!"