Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)

by William Somerset Maugham

  ‘You don’t mean to say you think there’s any truth in the letter?’ exclaimed Mrs. Crowley.

  He turned and faced her.

  ‘I’ve never read anything more convincing in my life.’

  Mrs. Crowley looked at him, and he returned her glance steadily.

  Of those three it was only Lady Kelsey who did not know that Lucy was deeply in love with Alec MacKenzie.

  ‘Perhaps you’re inclined to be unjust to him,’ said Mrs. Crowley.

  ‘We shall see if he has any answer to make,’ he answered coldly. ‘The evening papers are sure to get something out of him. The city is ringing with the story, and he must say something at once.’

  ‘It’s quite impossible that there should be anything in it,’ said Mrs. Crowley. ‘We all know the circumstances under which George went out with him. It’s inconceivable that he should have sacrificed him as callously as this man’s letter makes out.’

  ‘We shall see.’

  ‘You never liked him, Bobbie,’ said Lady Kelsey.

  ‘I didn’t,’ he answered briefly.

  ‘I wish I’d never thought of giving this horrid dance,’ she moaned.

  Presently, however, they succeeded in calming Lady Kelsey. Though both thought it unwise, they deferred to her wish that everything should be hidden from Lucy till the morrow. Dick Lomas was arriving from Paris that evening, and it would be possible then to take his advice. When at last Mrs. Crowley left the elder woman to her own devices, her thoughts went to Alec. She wondered where he was, and if he already knew that his name was more prominently than ever before the public.

  MacKenzie was travelling down from Lancashire. He was not a man who habitually read papers, and it was in fact only by chance that he saw a copy of the Daily Mail. A fellow traveller had with him a number of papers, and offered one of them to Alec. He took it out of mere politeness. His thoughts were otherwise occupied, and he scanned it carelessly. Suddenly he saw the heading which had attracted Lady Kelsey’s attention. He read the letter, and he read the leading article. No one who watched him could have guessed that what he read concerned him so nearly. His face remained impassive. Then, letting the paper fall to the ground, he began to think. Presently he turned to the amiable stranger who had given him the paper, and asked him if he had seen the letter.

  ‘Awful thing, isn’t it?’ the man said.

  Alec fixed upon him his dark, firm eyes. The man seemed an average sort of person, not without intelligence.

  ‘What do you think of it?’

  ‘Pity,’ he said. ‘I thought MacKenzie was a great man. I don’t know what he can do now but shoot himself.’

  ‘Do you think there’s any truth in it?’

  ‘The letter’s perfectly damning.’

  Alec did not answer. In order to break off the conversation he got up and walked into the corridor. He lit a cigar and watched the green fields that fled past them. For two hours he stood motionless. At last he took his seat again, with a shrug of the shoulders, and a scornful smile on his lips.

  The stranger was asleep, with his head thrown back and his mouth slightly open. Alec wondered whether his opinion of the affair would be that of the majority. He thought Alec should shoot himself?

  ‘I can see myself doing it,’ Alec muttered.

  XV

  A few hours later Lady Kelsey’s dance was in full swing, and to all appearances it was a great success. Many people were there, and everyone seemed to enjoy himself. On the surface, at all events, there was nothing to show that anything had occurred to disturb the evening’s pleasure, and for most of the party the letter in the Daily Mail was no more than a welcome topic of conversation.

  Presently Canon Spratte went into the smoking-room. He had on his arm, as was his amiable habit, the prettiest girl at the dance, Grace Vizard, a niece of that Lady Vizard who was a pattern of all the proprieties and a devout member of the Church of Rome. He found that Mrs. Crowley and Robert Boulger were already sitting there, and he greeted them courteously.

  ‘I really must have a cigarette,’ he said, going up to the table on which were all the necessary things for refreshment.

  ‘If you press me dreadfully I’ll have one, too,’ said Mrs. Crowley, with a flash of her beautiful teeth.

  ‘Don’t press her,’ said Bobbie. ‘She’s had six already, and in a moment she’ll be seriously unwell.’

  ‘Well, I’ll forego the pressing, but not the cigarette.’

  Canon Spratte gallantly handed her the box, and gave her a light.

  ‘It’s against all my principles, you know,’ he smiled.

  ‘What is the use of principles except to give one an agreeable sensation of wickedness when one doesn’t act up to them?’

  The words were hardly out of her mouth when Dick and Lady Kelsey appeared.

  ‘Dear Mrs. Crowley, you’re as epigrammatic as a dramatist,’ he exclaimed. ‘Do you say such things from choice or necessity?’

  He had arrived late, and this was the first time she had seen him since they had all gone their ways before Whitsun. He mixed himself a whisky and soda.

  ‘After all, is there anything you know so thoroughly insufferable as a ball?’ he said, reflectively, as he sipped it with great content.

  ‘Nothing, if you ask me pointblank,’ said Lady Kelsey, smiling with relief because he took so flippantly the news she had lately poured into his ear. ‘But it’s excessively rude of you to say so.’

  ‘I don’t mind yours, Lady Kelsey, because I can smoke as much as I please, and keep away from the sex which is technically known as fair.’

  Mrs. Crowley felt the remark was directed to her.

  ‘I’m sure you think us a vastly overrated institution, Mr. Lomas,’ she murmured.

  ‘I venture to think the world was not created merely to give women an opportunity to wear Paris frocks.’

  ‘I’m rather pleased to hear you say that.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Dick, on his guard.

  ‘We’re all so dreadfully tired of being goddesses. For centuries foolish men have set us up on a pedestal and vowed they were unworthy to touch the hem of our garments. And it is so dull.’

  ‘What a clever woman you are, Mrs. Crowley. You always say what you don’t mean.’

  ‘You’re really very rude.’

  ‘Now that impropriety is out of fashion, rudeness is the only short cut to a reputation for wit.’

  Canon Spratte did not like Dick. He thought he talked too much. It was fortunately easy to change the conversation.

  ‘Unlike Mr. Lomas, I thoroughly enjoy a dance,’ he said, turning to Lady Kelsey. ‘My tastes are ingenuous, and I can only hope you’ve enjoyed your evening as much as your guests.’

  ‘I?’ cried Lady Kelsey. ‘I’ve been suffering agonies.’ They all knew to what she referred, and the remark gave Boulger an opportunity to speak to Dick Lomas.

  ‘I suppose you saw the Mail this morning?’ he asked.

  ‘I never read the papers except in August,’ answered Dick drily.

  ‘When there’s nothing in them?’ asked Mrs. Crowley.

  ‘Pardon me, I am an eager student of the sea-serpent and of the giant gooseberry.’

  ‘I should like to kick that man,’ said Bobbie, indignantly.

  Dick smiled.

  ‘My dear chap, Alec is a hardy Scot and bigger than you; I really shouldn’t advise you to try.’

  ‘Of course you’ve heard all about this business?’ said Canon Spratte.

  ‘I’ve only just arrived from Paris. I knew nothing of it till Lady Kelsey told me.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t think at all; I know there’s not a word of truth in it. Since Alec arrived at Mombassa, he’s been acclaimed by everyone, private and public, who had any right to an opinion. Of course it couldn’t last. There was bound to be a reaction.’

  ‘Do you know anything of this man Macinnery?’ asked Boulger.

  ‘It so happens that I do. Alec found him half s
tarving at Mombassa, and took him solely out of charity. But he was a worthless rascal and had to be sent back.’

  ‘He seems to me to give ample proof for every word he says,’ retorted Bobbie.

  Dick shrugged his shoulders scornfully.

  ‘As I’ve already explained to Lady Kelsey, whenever an explorer comes home there’s someone to tell nasty stories about him. People forget that kid gloves are not much use in a tropical forest, and they grow very indignant when they hear that a man has used a little brute force to make himself respected.’

  ‘All that’s beside the point,’ said Boulger, impatiently. ‘MacKenzie sent poor George into a confounded trap to save his own dirty skin.’

  ‘Poor Lucy!’ moaned Lady Kelsey. ‘First her father died....’

  ‘You’re not going to count that as an overwhelming misfortune?’ Dick interrupted. ‘We were unanimous in describing that gentleman’s demise as an uncommon happy release.’

  ‘I was engaged to dine with him this evening,’ said Bobbie, pursuing his own bitter reflections. ‘I wired to say I had a headache and couldn’t come.’

  ‘What will he think if he sees you here?’ cried Lady Kelsey.

  ‘He can think what he likes.’

  Canon Spratte felt that it was needful now to put in the decisive word which he always expected from himself. He rubbed his hands blandly.

  ‘In this matter I must say I agree entirely with our friend Bobbie. I read the letter with the utmost care, and I could see no loophole of escape. Until Mr. MacKenzie gives a definite answer I can hardly help looking upon him as nothing less than a murderer. In these things I feel that one should have the courage of one’s opinions. I saw him in Piccadilly this evening, and I cut him dead. Nothing will induce me to shake hands with a man on whom rests so serious an accusation.’

  ‘I hope to goodness he doesn’t come,’ said Lady Kelsey.

  Canon Spratte looked at his watch and gave her a reassuring smile.

  ‘I think you may feel quite safe. It’s really growing very late.’

  ‘You say that Lucy doesn’t know anything about this?’ asked Dick.

  ‘No,’ said Lady Kelsey. ‘I wanted to give her this evening’s enjoyment unalloyed.’

  Dick shrugged his shoulders again. He did not understand how Lady Kelsey expected no suggestion to reach Lucy of a matter which seemed a common topic of conversation. The pause which followed Lady Kelsey’s words was not broken when Lucy herself appeared. She was accompanied by a spruce young man, to whom she turned with a smile.

  ‘I thought we should find your partner here.’

  He went to Grace Vizard, and claiming her for the dance that was about to begin, took her away. Lucy went up to Lady Kelsey and leaned over the chair in which she sat.

  ‘Are you growing very tired, my aunt?’ she asked kindly.

  ‘I can rest myself till supper time. I don’t think anyone else will come now.’

  ‘Have you forgotten Mr. MacKenzie?’

  Lady Kelsey looked up quickly, but did not reply. Lucy put her hand gently on her aunt’s shoulder.

  ‘My dear, it was charming of you to hide the paper from me this morning. But it wasn’t very wise.’

  ‘Did you see that letter?’ cried Lady Kelsey. ‘I so wanted you not to till to-morrow.’

  ‘Mr. MacKenzie very rightly thought I should know at once what was said about him and my brother. He sent me the paper himself this evening.’

  ‘Did he write to you?’ asked Dick.

  ‘No, he merely scribbled on a card: I think you should read this.’

  No one answered. Lucy turned and faced them; her cheeks were pale, but she was very calm. She looked gravely at Robert Boulger, waiting for him to say what she knew was in his mind, so that she might express at once her utter disbelief in the charges that were brought against Alec. But he did not speak, and she was obliged to utter her defiant words without provocation.

  ‘He thought it unnecessary to assure me that he hadn’t betrayed the trust I put in him.’

  ‘Do you mean to say the letter left any doubt in your mind?’ said Boulger.

  ‘Why on earth should I believe the unsupported words of a subordinate who was dismissed for misbehaviour?’

  ‘For my part, I can only say that I never read anything more convincing in my life.’

  ‘I could hardly believe him guilty of such a crime if he confessed it with his own lips.’

  Bobbie shrugged his shoulders. It was only with difficulty that he held back the cruel words that were on his lips. But as if Lucy read his thoughts, her cheeks flushed.

  ‘I think it’s infamous that you should all be ready to believe the worst,’ she said hotly, in a low voice that trembled with indignant anger. ‘You’re all of you so petty, so mean, that you welcome the chance of spattering with mud a man who is so infinitely above you. You’ve not given him a chance to defend himself.’

  Bobbie turned very pale. Lucy had never spoken to him in such a way before, and wrath flamed up in his heart, wrath mixed with hopeless love. He paused for a moment to command himself.

  ‘You don’t know apparently that interviewers went to him from the evening papers, and he refused to speak.’

  ‘He has never consented to be interviewed. Why should you expect him now to break his rule?’

  Bobbie was about to answer, when a sudden look of dismay on Lady Kelsey’s face stopped him. He turned round and saw MacKenzie standing at the door. He came forward with a smile, holding out his hand, and addressed himself to Lady Kelsey.

  ‘I thought I should find you here,’ he said.

  He was perfectly collected. He glanced around the room with a smile of quiet amusement. A certain embarrassment seized the little party, and Lady Kelsey, as she shook hands with him, was at a loss for words.

  ‘How do you do?’ she faltered. ‘We’ve just been talking of you.’

  ‘Really?’

  The twinkle in his eyes caused her to lose the remainder of her self-possession, and she turned scarlet.

  ‘It’s so late, we were afraid you wouldn’t come. I should have been dreadfully disappointed.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you to say so. I’ve been at the Travellers, reading various appreciations of my character.’

  A hurried look of alarm crossed Lady Kelsey’s good-tempered face.

  ‘Oh, I heard there was something about you in the papers,’ she answered.

  ‘There’s a good deal. I really had no idea the world was so interested in me.’

  ‘It’s charming of you to come here to-night,’ the good lady smiled, beginning to feel more at ease. ‘I’m sure you hate dances.’

  ‘Oh, no, they interest me enormously. I remember, an African king once gave a dance in my honour. Four thousand warriors in war-paint. I assure you it was a most impressive sight.’

  ‘My dear fellow,’ Dick chuckled, ‘if paint is the attraction, you really need not go much further than Mayfair.’

  The scene amused him. He was deeply interested in Alec’s attitude, for he knew him well enough to be convinced that his discreet gaiety was entirely assumed. It was impossible to tell by it what course he meant to adopt; and at the same time there was about him a greater unapproachableness, which warned all and sundry that it would be wiser to attempt no advance. But for his own part he did not care; he meant to have a word with Alec at the first opportunity.

  Alec’s quiet eyes now rested on Robert Boulger.

  ‘Ah, there’s my little friend Bobbikins. I thought you had a headache?’

  Lady Kelsey remembered her nephew’s broken engagement and interposed quickly.

  ‘I’m afraid Bobbie is dreadfully dissipated. He’s not looking at all well.’

  ‘You shouldn’t keep such late hours,’ said Alec, good-humouredly. ‘At your age one needs one’s beauty sleep.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you to take an interest in me,’ said Boulger, flushing with annoyance. ‘My headache has passed off.’

  ‘I’
m very glad. What do you use — phenacetin?’

  ‘It went away of its own accord after dinner,’ returned Bobbie frigidly, conscious that he was being laughed at, but unable to extricate himself.

  ‘So you resolved to give the girls a treat by coming to Lady Kelsey’s dance? How nice of you not to disappoint them!’

  Alec turned to Lucy, and they looked into one another’s eyes.

  ‘I sent you a paper this evening,’ he said gravely.

  ‘It was very good of you.’

  There was a silence. All who were present felt that the moment was impressive, and it needed Canon Spratte’s determination to allow none but himself to monopolise attention, to bring to an end a situation which might have proved awkward. He came forward and offered his arm to Lucy.

  ‘I think this is my dance. May I take you in?’

  He was trying to repeat the direct cut which he had given Alec earlier in the day. Alec looked at him.

  ‘I saw you in Piccadilly this evening. You were dashing about like a young gazelle.’

  ‘I didn’t see you,’ said the Canon, frigidly.

  ‘I observed that you were deeply engrossed in the shop windows as I passed. How are you?’

  He held out his hand. For a moment the Canon hesitated to take it, but Alec’s gaze compelled him.

  ‘How do you do?’ he said.

  He felt, rather than heard, Dick’s chuckle, and reddening, offered his arm to Lucy.

  ‘Won’t you come, Mr. MacKenzie?’ said Lady Kelsey, making the best of her difficulty.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll stay and smoke a cigarette with Dick Lomas. You know, I’m not a dancing man.’

  It seemed that Alec was giving Dick the opportunity he sought, and as soon as they found themselves alone, the sprightly little man attacked him.

  ‘I suppose you know we were all beseeching Providence you’d have the grace to stay away to-night?’ he said.

  ‘I confess that I suspected it,’ smiled Alec. ‘I shouldn’t have come, only I wanted to see Miss Allerton.’

  ‘This fellow Macinnery proposes to make things rather uncomfortable, I imagine.’

  ‘I made a mistake, didn’t I?’ said Alec, with a thin smile. ‘I should have dropped him in the river when I had no further use for him.’