Allerton, reminding them that they were to lunch together, jumped into a cab. Lucy and Dick walked slowly back to Charles Street. Dick was very silent. He had not seen Fred Allerton for some time and was surprised to see that he had regained his old smartness. The flat had pretty things in it which testified to the lessee’s taste and to his means, and the clothes he wore were new and well-cut. The invitation to the Carlton showed that he was in no want of ready money, and there was a general air of prosperity about him which gave Dick much to think of.
Lucy did not ask him to come in, since George, by now, must have arrived, and she wished to see him alone. They agreed to meet again at two. As she shook hands with Dick, Lucy told him what her father had said.
‘I had a sleepless night,’ she said. ‘It was so stupid of me; I couldn’t get it out of my head that father, unintentionally, had done something rash or foolish; but I’ve got his word of honour that nothing is the matter, and I feel as if a whole world of anxiety were suddenly lifted from my shoulders.’
The party at the Carlton was very gay. Fred Allerton seemed in the best of spirits, and his good-humour was infectious. He was full of merry quips. Lucy had made as little of the affair as possible to George. Her eyes rested on him, as he sat opposite to her, and she felt happy and proud. Now and then he looked at her, and an affectionate smile came to his lips. She was delighted with his slim handsomeness. There was a guileless look in his blue eyes which was infinitely attractive. His mouth was beautifully modelled. She took an immense pride in the candour of soul which shone with so clear a light on his face, and she was affected as a stranger might have been by the exquisite charm of manner which he had inherited from his father. She wanted to have him to herself that evening and suggested that they should go to a play together. He accepted the idea eagerly, for he admired his sister with all his heart; he felt in himself a need for protection, and she was able to minister to this. He was never so happy as when he was by her side. He liked to tell her all he did, and, when she fired him with noble ambitions, he felt capable of anything.
They were absurdly light-hearted, as they started on their little jaunt. Lady Kelsey had slipped a couple of banknotes into George’s hand and told them to have a good time. They dined at the Carlton, went to a musical comedy, which amused Lucy because her brother laughed so heartily — she was fascinated by his keen power of enjoyment — and finished by going to the Savoy for supper. For the moment all her anxieties seemed to fall from her, and the years of trouble were forgotten. She was as merry and as irresponsible as George. He was enchanted. He had never seen Lucy so tender and so gay; there was a new brilliancy in her eyes; and, without quite knowing what it was that differed, he found a soft mellowness in her laughter which filled him with an uncomprehended delight. Neither did Lucy know why the world on a sudden seemed fuller than it had ever done before, nor why the future smiled so kindly: it never occurred to her that she was in love.
When Lucy, exhausted but content, found herself at length in her room, she thanked God for the happiness of the evening. It was the last time she could do that for many weary years.
A few days later Allerton appeared again at the police court, and the magistrate, committing him for trial, declined to renew his bail. The prisoner was removed in custody.
VI
During the fortnight that followed, Alec spent much time with Lucy. Together, in order to cheat the hours that hung so heavily on her hands, they took long walks in Hyde Park, and, when Alec’s business permitted, they went to the National Gallery. Then he took her to the Natural History Museum, and his conversation, in face of the furred and feathered things from Africa, made the whole country vivid to her. Lucy was very grateful to him because he drew her mind away from the topic that constantly absorbed it. Though he never expressed his sympathy in so many words, she felt it in every inflection of his voice. His patience was admirable.
At last came the day fixed for the trial.
Fred Allerton insisted that neither Lucy nor George should come to the Old Bailey, and they were to await the verdict at Lady Kelsey’s. Dick and Robert Boulger were subpoenaed as witnesses. In order that she might be put out of her suspense quickly, Lucy asked Alec MacKenzie to go into court and bring her the result as soon as it was known.
The morning passed with leaden feet.
After luncheon Mrs. Crowley came to sit with Lady Kelsey, and together they watched the minute hand go round the clock. Now the verdict might be expected at any moment. After some time Canon Spratte, the vicar of the church which Lady Kelsey attended, sent up to ask if he might see her; and Mrs. Crowley, thinking to distract her, asked him to come in. The Canon’s breezy courtliness as a rule soothed Lady Kelsey’s gravest troubles, but now she would not be comforted.
‘I shall never get over it,’ she said, with a handkerchief to her eyes. ‘I shall never cease blaming myself. Nothing of all this would have happened, if it hadn’t been for me.’
Canon Spratte and Mrs. Crowley watched her without answering. She was a stout, amiable woman, who had clothed herself in black because the occasion was tragic. Grief had made her garrulous.
‘Poor Fred came to me one day and said he must have eight thousand pounds at once. He told me his partner had cheated him, and it was a matter of life and death. But it was such a large sum, and I’ve given him so much already. After all, I’ve got to think of Lucy and George. They only have me to depend on, and I refused to give it. Oh, I’d have given every penny I own rather than have this horrible shame.’
‘You mustn’t take it too much to heart, Lady Kelsey,’ said Mrs. Crowley. ‘It will soon be all over.’
‘Our ways have parted for some time now,’ said Canon Spratte, ‘but at one period I used to see a good deal of Fred Allerton. I can’t tell you how distressed I was to hear of this terrible misfortune.’
‘He’s always been unlucky,’ returned Lady Kelsey. ‘I only hope this will be a lesson to him. He’s like a child in business matters. Oh, it’s awful to think of my poor sister’s husband standing in the felon’s dock!’
‘You must try not to think of it. I’m sure everything will turn out quite well. In another hour you’ll have him with you again.’
The Canon got up and shook hands with Lady Kelsey.
‘It was so good of you to come,’ she said.
He turned to Mrs. Crowley, whom he liked because she was American, rich, and a widow.
‘I’m grateful, too,’ she murmured, as she bade him farewell. ‘A clergyman always helps one so much to bear other people’s misfortunes.’
Canon Spratte smiled and made a mental note of the remark, which he thought would do very well from his own lips.
‘Where is Lucy?’ asked Mrs. Crowley, when he had gone.
Lady Kelsey threw up her hands with the feeling, half of amazement, half of annoyance, which a very emotional person has always for one who is self-restrained.
‘She’s sitting in her room, reading. She’s been reading all day. Heaven only knows how she can do it. I tried, and all the letters swam before my eyes. It drives me mad to see how calm she is.’
They began to talk of the immediate future. Lady Kelsey had put a large sum at Lucy’s disposal, and it was arranged that the two children should take their father to some place in the south of France where he could rest after the terrible ordeal.
‘I don’t know what they would all have done without you,’ said Mrs. Crowley. ‘You have been a perfect angel.’
‘Nonsense,’ smiled Lady Kelsey. ‘They’re my only relations in the world, except Bobbie, who’s very much too rich as it is, and I love Lucy and George as if they were my own children. What is the good of my money except to make them happy and comfortable?’
Mrs. Crowley remembered Dick’s surmise that Lady Kelsey had loved Fred Allerton, and she wondered how much of the old feeling still remained. She felt a great pity for the kind, unselfish creature. Lady Kelsey started as she heard the street door slam. But it was only George who
entered.
‘Oh, George, where have you been? Why didn’t you come in to luncheon?’
He looked pale and haggard. The strain of the last fortnight had told on him enormously, and it was plain that his excitement was almost unbearable.
‘I couldn’t eat anything. I’ve been walking about, waiting for the damned hours to pass. I wish I hadn’t promised father not to go into court. Anything would have been better than this awful suspense. I saw the man who’s defending him when they adjourned for luncheon, and he told me it was all right.’
‘Of course it’s all right. You didn’t imagine that your father would be found guilty.’
‘Oh, I knew he wouldn’t have done a thing like that,’ said George impatiently. ‘But I can’t help being frightfully anxious. The papers are awful. They’ve got huge placards out: County gentleman at the Old Bailey. Society in a Bucket Shop.’
George shivered with horror.
‘Oh, it’s awful!’ he cried.
Lady Kelsey began to cry again, and Mrs. Crowley sat in silence, not knowing what to say. George walked about in agitation.
‘But I know he’s not guilty,’ moaned Lady Kelsey.
‘If he’s guilty or not he’s ruined me,’ said George. ‘I can’t go up to Oxford again after this. I don’t know what the devil’s to become of me. We’re all utterly disgraced. Oh, how could he! How could he!’
‘Oh, George, don’t,’ said Lady Kelsey.
But George, with a weak man’s petulance, could not keep back the bitter words that he had turned over in his heart so often since the brutal truth was told him.
‘Wasn’t it enough that he fooled away every penny he had, so that we’re simply beggars, both of us, and we have to live on your charity? I should have thought that would have satisfied him, without getting locked up for being connected in a beastly bucketshop swindle.’
‘George, how can you talk of your father like that!’
He gave a sort of sob and looked at her with wild eyes. But at that moment a cab drove up, and, he sprang on to the balcony.
‘It’s Dick Lomas and Bobbie. They’ve come to tell us.’
He ran to the door and opened it. They walked up the stairs.
‘Well?’ he cried. ‘Well?’
‘It’s not over yet. We left just as the judge was summing up.’
‘Damn you!’ cried George, with an explosion of sudden fury.
‘Steady, old man,’ said Dick.
‘Why didn’t you stay?’ moaned Lady Kelsey.
‘I couldn’t,’ said Dick. ‘It was too awful.’
‘How was it going?’
‘I couldn’t make head or tail of it. My mind was in a whirl. I’m an hysterical old fool.’
Mrs. Crowley went up to Lady Kelsey and kissed her.
‘Why don’t you go and lie down for a little while, dear,’ she said. ‘You look positively exhausted.’
‘I have a racking headache,’ groaned Lady Kelsey.
‘Alec MacKenzie has promised to come here as soon as its over. But you mustn’t expect him for another hour.’
‘Yes, I’ll go and lie down,’ said Lady Kelsey.
George, unable to master his impatience, flung open the window and stood on the balcony, watching for the cab that would bring the news.
‘Go and talk to him, there’s a good fellow,’ said Dick to Robert Boulger. ‘Cheer him up a bit.’
‘Yes, of course I will. It’s rot to make a fuss now that it’s nearly over. Uncle Fred will be here himself in an hour.’
Dick looked at him without answering. When Robert had gone on to the balcony, he flung himself wearily in a chair.
‘I couldn’t stand it any longer,’ he said. ‘You can’t imagine how awful it was to see that wretched man in the dock. He looked like a hunted beast, his face was all grey with fright, and once I caught his eyes. I shall never forget the look that was in them.’
‘But I thought he was bearing it so well,’ said Mrs. Crowley.
‘You know, he’s a man who’s never looked the truth in the face. He never seemed to realise the gravity of the charges that were brought against him, and even when the magistrate refused to renew his bail, his confidence never deserted him. It was only to-day, when the whole thing was unrolled before him, that he appeared to understand. Oh, if you’d heard the evidence that was given! And then the pitiful spectacle of those two men trying to throw the blame on one another!’
A look of terror came into Mrs. Crowley’s face.
‘You don’t think he’s guilty?’ she gasped.
Dick looked at her steadily, but did not answer.
‘But Lucy’s convinced that he’ll be acquitted.’
‘I wonder.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’
Dick shrugged his shoulders.
‘But he can’t be guilty,’ cried Mrs. Crowley. ‘It’s impossible.’
Dick made an effort to drive away from his mind the dreadful fears that filled it.
‘Yes, that’s what I feel, too,’ he said. ‘With all his faults Fred Allerton can’t have committed such a despicable crime. You’ve never met him, you don’t know him; but I’ve known him intimately for twenty years. He couldn’t have swindled that wretched woman out of every penny she had, knowing that it meant starvation to her. He couldn’t have been so brutally cruel.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that’
Silence fell upon them for a while, and they waited. From the balcony they heard George talking rapidly, but they could not distinguish his words.
‘I felt ashamed to stay in court and watch the torture of that unhappy man. I’ve dined with him times out of number; I’ve stayed at his house; I’ve ridden his horses. Oh, it was too awful.’
He got up impatiently and walked up and down the room.
‘It must be over by now. Why doesn’t Alec come? He swore he’d bolt round the very moment the verdict was given.’
‘The suspense is dreadful,’ said Mrs. Crowley.
Dick stood still. He looked at the little American, but his eyes did not see her.
‘There are some people who are born without a moral sense. They are as unable to distinguish between right and wrong as a man who is colour blind, between red and green.’
‘Why do you say that?’ asked Mrs. Crowley.
He did not answer. She went up to him anxiously.
‘Mr. Lomas, I can’t bear it. You must tell me. Do you think he’s guilty?’
He passed his hands over his eyes.
‘The evidence was damnable.’
At that moment George sprang into the room.
‘There’s Alec. He’s just driving along in a cab.’
‘Thank God, thank God!’ cried Mrs. Crowley. ‘If it had lasted longer I should have gone mad.’
George went to the door.
‘I must tell Miller. He has orders to let no one up.’
He leaned over the banisters, as the bell of the front door was rung.
‘Miller, Miller, let Mr. MacKenzie in.’
‘Very good, sir,’ answered the butler.
Lucy had heard the cab drive up, and she came into the drawing-room with Lady Kelsey. The elder woman had broken down altogether and was sobbing distractedly. Lucy was very white, but otherwise quite composed. She shook hands with Dick and Mrs. Crowley.
‘It was kind of you to come,’ she said.
‘Oh, my poor Lucy,’ said Mrs. Crowley, with a sob in her voice.
Lucy smiled bravely.
‘It’s all over now.’
Alec came in, and she walked eagerly towards him.
‘Well? I was hoping you’d bring father with you. When is he coming?’
She stopped. She gave a gasp as she saw Alec’s face. Though her cheeks were pale before, now their pallor was deathly.
‘What is the matter?’
‘Isn’t it all right?’ cried George.
Lucy put her hand on his arm to quieten him. It seemed that Alec could not find words. T
here was a horrible silence, but they all knew what he had to tell them.
‘I’m afraid you must prepare yourself for a great unhappiness,’ he said.
‘Where’s father?’ cried Lucy. ‘Where’s father? Why didn’t you bring him with you?’
With the horrible truth dawning upon her, she was losing her self-control. She made an effort. Alec would not speak, and she was obliged to question him. When the words came, her voice was hoarse and low.
‘You’ve not told us what the verdict was.’
‘Guilty,’ he answered.
Then the colour flew back to her cheeks, and her eyes flashed with anger.
‘But it’s impossible. He was innocent. He swore that he hadn’t done it. There must be some horrible mistake.’
‘I wish to God there were,’ said Alec.
‘You don’t think he’s guilty?’ she cried.
He did not answer, and for a moment they looked at one another steadily.
‘What was the sentence?’ she asked.
‘The judge was dead against him. He made some very violent remarks as he passed it.’
‘Tell me what he said.’
‘Why should you wish to torture yourself?’
‘I want to know.’
‘He seemed to think the fact that your father was a gentleman made the crime more odious, and the way in which he had induced that woman to part with her money made no punishment too severe. He sentenced him to seven years penal servitude.’
George gave a cry and sinking into a chair, burst into tears. Lucy put her hand on his shoulder.
‘Don’t, George,’ she said. ‘You must bear up. Now we want all our courage, now more than ever.’
‘Oh, I can’t bear it,’ he moaned.
She bent down and kissed him tenderly.
‘Be brave, my dearest, be brave for my sake.’
But he sobbed uncontrollably. It was a horribly painful sight. Dick took him by the arm and led him away. Lucy turned to Alec, who was standing where first he had stopped.
‘I want to ask you a question. Will you answer me quite truthfully, whatever the pain you think it will cause me?’
Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated) Page 117