Selingman was once more entirely his old self. He staggered into the
room with a tin of biscuits under one arm, and three bottles of hock
under the other, all of which he deposited noisily upon the round table
in the middle of the room.
"I am the prince of caterers," he declared. "I surpass myself. Come
out of the shadows, you dreamer. There is work to be done, food to be
eaten, wine to be drunk."
From his left-hand pocket he produced three candles, which he placed at
intervals along the mantelpiece and lit. Then for the first time he saw
Julia.
"Ah," he cried, "our inspiration! Congratulate yourself, dear Miss
Julia. After all, you are going to dine or sup, or whatever meal you
may choose to call it. Behold!"
From his other pocket he produced two great jars of potted meat, a jar
of jam, a handful of miscellaneous knives and forks, and a corkscrew.
"I have found an intelligent person here," he confided to them. "He has
shown me the way to the wine cellar. Only the landlord and he are
permitted to fetch wine. They fear a raid. Niersteiner, of a
reasonable vintage."
"I will fetch Aaron," Julia said as she left the room.
"The girl worships you, and you're a beast to her," Selingman exclaimed,
his eyes fixed upon the door through which she had vanished. "A man,
indeed! A creature of wood and sawdust! Listen!"
His hand flashed out, his hand which grasped still the corkscrew.
"Listen, you man from the clouds," he continued. "I shall rob you of
her. I adore her. To-day she may think me merely fat and eccentric.
Don't rely upon that. I have the gift when I choose. I can tell fairy
tales, I can creep a little way into her mind and fill her brain with
delicate fancies, build images there and destroy them, play softly upon
the keynote of her emotions, until one day she will wake up and what
will have happened? She will be mine!"
He banged the table with the bottle of wine he was holding. Then, with
great care and accuracy, he drew the cork.
"Your health!" he cried, raising his glass. "Ah, no! I have not sipped
the wine. I change the toast. To Julia!"
Maraton rose to his feet, and turned his back upon the gloomy darkness
which brooded over the city. He took the glass of wine which Selingman
was holding out and leaned towards him earnestly.
"My friend," he said, "it seems strange to me that we speak of these
things at such an hour. Yet let me tell you something. I don't know
why I want to tell you, but I do. I am not, perhaps, quite what you
think me. Only, the night you and I went north together, the gates of
that world which you speak of so easily were closed behind me."
"It was the other woman," Selingman exclaimed.
"It was the other woman," Maraton echoed.
Selingman set down the bottle upon the table. Two great tears rolled
down from his blue eyes. He held out both his hands and gripped
Maraton's.
"My friend," he said, "now indeed I love you! We are twin souls. You,
too, are human as you are wonderful. You see what an old woman I am.
This sentiment--oh, it will be the end of me! But tell me--I must know.
It was because you went north that it was ended?"
Maraton nodded slowly.
"I chose the opposite camp," he answered. "What could I do?"
"Nature," Selingman declared, brandishing a great silk handkerchief, "is
the queerest mistress who ever played pranks with us. Here, in the same
camp, dwells a divinity, and you--you must peer down into the lower
world. . . . Never mind, potted meat and hock are good. Julia," he
added, turning his head at the sound of the opening door, "to genius in
adversity all gentle familiarities are permitted. I grant myself the
privilege of your Christian name. Come and grace our feast. I have
found food and wine. I am your self-appointed caterer. There is no
butter, but that is simply one of those pleasant tests for us, a test of
will and fortitude. All my life until to-night I have loved butter.
From henceforth--until we can get it again--I detest it. Let us eat,
drink and be merry. Where is Aaron?"
"He went out into the streets," Julia replied. "He will be back
presently."
Aaron came in a few minutes later, struggling with the weight of the
parcels he was carrying. He laid them down upon the sideboard, and
turned towards Maraton with an air of triumph.
"I've been there, sir," he announced. "I've got the letters, your
private dispatch box, and a lot of papers we needed. It's only the
outside walls of the house that are charred. The fire was put out
almost at once. And I've seen Ernshaw."
Maraton's eyes were lit with pleasure.
"You're a fine fellow, Aaron," he commended.
"I've got my bicycle, too," Aaron continued. "I can get half over
London, if necessary, while you stay here."
"Tell me about Ernshaw?" Maraton begged quickly.
"He's loyal--they all are," Aaron cried. "Oh, you should hear him talk
about Peter Dale and Graveling, and that lot! They're spread up north
now, all of them, trying to kill the strike. And the men won't move
anywhere. His own miners wouldn't listen to Dale. Mr. Foley sent him
up to Newcastle in his motor-car. They played a garden hose on him and
burned an effigy of himself, dressed in old woman's clothes. Mr.
Foley's had the railway men to Downing Street twice, but they've never
wavered. Ernshaw is splendid. There are seven of them, and Ernshaw's
own words were that they've made up their minds that grass could grow in
the tracks and hell fires scorch up the land before they'd go back to
slavery. They're for you, sir, body and soul. They won't give in."
"Thank God!" Maraton muttered. "What about the mob?"
"Loafers and wastrels," Aaron exclaimed indignantly, "dirty parasites of
humanity, thieves; not an honest worker amongst them! They're the sort
who shouted themselves hoarse on Mafeking night and hid in their holes
when the war drums were calling. The authorities got a hundred police
from somewhere, and they crumbled away like rats running for their
holes. Ernshaw asks you not to go back to Russell Square because of the
difficulty of getting at you, but this was his message to you, sir, when
I told him of your arrival. He begged me to tell you that they were the
scum of the earth; that from Newcastle to the Thames the men who stand
idle to-day wait in faith and trust for your word and yours only. He
will be here before long."
Selingman nodded ponderously. His mouth was very full, but he did not
delay his speech.
"You have brought a splendid message, young man," he pronounced. "Sit
down and eat with us. Exercise your imagination but a little and you
will indeed believe that you have been bidden to a feast of Lucullus.
Has any one, I wonder, ever appreciated the marvellous and yet subtle
sympathy which can exist between potted meat and biscuits--especially
when washed down with hock? Join us, my young friend Aaron. Abandon
yourself with us to the pleasure of the table. We will discuss any
subject upon the earth--except butter! Miss Julia, do you know where I
shall go when I leave here? No? I go to seek chocolates and flowers
for you."
She laughed gaily.
"Chocolates and flowers," she repeated, "at ten o'clock at night! And
for me, too!"
"And why not for you?" Selingman demanded, almost indignantly. "You are
like all enthusiasts of your sex. You are too intense, you concentrate
too much. You have lived in a cold and austere atmosphere. You have
waited a long time for the hand which is to lead you into the sunshine."
She laughed at him once more, yet perhaps this time a little wistfully.
"Very well," she promised, "I will reform. I will eat all the
chocolates you can bring me, and I will sleep with your flowers at my
bedside. There! Am I improving?"
Selingman rose to his feet. He drained his glass of wine and lit one of
his long black cigars by the flame of the candle.
"Dear Julia," he said, "you have spoken. I start on the quest of my
life."