order to give his remark a casual air, but it was forced. She wondered
if he saw that she was shaking in every limb. It was only by an effort
that she did not scream. He dropped his eyes.
"I'm just going to dress."
He left the room. She was shattered. For two or three minutes she could
not stir, but at last, raising herself from the sofa with difficulty, as
though she had had an illness and were still weak, she found her feet.
She did not know if her legs would support her. She felt her way by
means of chairs and tables to the veranda and then with one hand on the
wall went to her room. She put on a tea-gown and when she went back into
her boudoir (they only used the drawing-room when there was a party) he
was standing at a table looking at the pictures of the _Sketch_. She had
to force herself to enter.
"Shall we go down? Dinner is ready."
"Have I kept you waiting?"
It was dreadful that she could not control the trembling of her lips.
When was he going to speak?
They sat down and for a moment there was silence between them. Then he
made a remark and because it was so commonplace it had a sinister air.
"The _Empress_ didn't come in to-day," he said. "I wonder if she's been
delayed by a storm."
"Was she due to-day?"
"Yes."
She looked at him now and saw that his eyes were fixed on his plate. He
made another observation, equally trivial, about a tennis tournament
that was about to be played, and he spoke at length. His voice as a rule
was agreeable, with a variety of tone, but now he spoke on one note. It
was strangely unnatural. It gave Kitty the impression that he was
speaking from a long way off. And all the time his eyes were directed to
his plate, or the table, or to a picture on the wall. He would not meet
hers. She realised that he could not bear to look at her.
"Shall we go upstairs?" he said when dinner was finished.
"If you like."
She rose and he held open the door for her. His eyes were cast down as
she passed him. When they reached the sitting-room he took up the
illustrated paper once more.
"Is this a new _Sketch_? I don't think I've seen it."
"I don't know. I haven't noticed."
It had been lying about for a fortnight and she knew that he had looked
it through and through. He took it and sat down. She lay again on the
sofa and took her book. As a rule in the evening, when they were alone,
they played coon-can or patience. He was leaning back in an arm-chair,
in a comfortable attitude, and his attention seemed absorbed by the
illustration he was looking at. He did not turn the page. She tried to
read, but she could not see the print before her eyes. The words were
blurred. Her head began to ache violently.
When would he speak?
They sat in silence for an hour. She gave up the pretence of reading,
and letting her novel fall on her lap, gazed into space. She was afraid
to make the smallest gesture or the smallest sound. He sat quite still,
in that same easy attitude, and stared with those wide, immobile eyes of
his at the picture. His stillness was strangely menacing. It gave Kitty
the feeling of a wild beast prepared to spring.
When suddenly he stood up she started. She clenched her hands and she
felt herself grow pale. Now!
"I have some work to do," he said in that quiet, toneless voice, his
eyes averted. "If you don't mind I'll go into my study. I daresay you'll
have gone to bed by the time I've finished."
"I _am_ rather tired to-night."
"Well, good night."
"Good night."
He left the room.
_xix_
As soon as she could next morning she rang Townsend up at his office.
"Yes, what is it?"
"I want to see you."
"My dear, I'm awfully busy. I'm a working man."
"It's very important. Can I come down to the office?"
"Oh, no, I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"Well, come here then."
"I can't possibly get away. What about this afternoon? And don't you
think it would be better if I didn't come to your house?"
"I must see you at once."
There was a pause and she was afraid that she had been cut off.
"Are you there?" she asked anxiously.
"Yes, I was thinking. Has anything happened?"
"I can't tell you over the telephone."
There was another silence before he spoke again.
"Well, look here, I can manage to see you for ten minutes at one if
that'll do. You'd better go to Ku-Chou's and I'll come along as soon as
I can."
"The curio shop?" she asked in dismay.
"Well, we can't meet in the lounge at the Tching Yen Hotel very well,"
he answered.
She noticed a trace of irritation in his voice.
"Very well. I'll go to Ku-Chou's."
_xx_
She got out of her rickshaw in the Victoria Road and walked up the
steep, narrow lane till she came to the shop. She lingered outside a
moment as though her attention were attracted by the bric-à-brac which
was displayed. But a boy who was standing there on the watch for
customers, recognising her at once, gave her a broad smile of
connivance. He said something in Chinese to someone within and the
master, a little, fat-faced man in a black gown, came out and greeted
her. She walked in quickly.
"Mr. Townsend no come yet. You go top-side, yes?"
She went to the back of the shop and walked up the rickety, dark stairs.
The Chinese followed her and unlocked the door that led into the
bedroom. It was stuffy and there was an acrid smell of opium. She sat
down on a sandalwood chest.
In a moment she heard a heavy step on the creaking stairs. Townsend came
in and shut the door behind him. His face bore a sullen look, but as he
saw her it vanished, and he smiled in that charming way of his. He took
her quickly in his arms and kissed her lips.
"Now what's the trouble?"
"It makes me feel better just to see you," she smiled.
He sat down on the bed and lit a cigarette.
"You look rather washed out this morning."
"I don't wonder," she answered. "I don't think I closed my eyes all
night."
He gave her a look. He was smiling still, but his smile was a little set
and unnatural. She thought there was a shade of anxiety in his eyes.
"He knows," she said.
There was an instant's pause before he answered.
"What did he say?"
"He hasn't said anything."
"What!" He looked at her sharply. "What makes you think he knows then?"
"Everything. His look. The way he talked at dinner."
"Was he disagreeable?"
"No, on the contrary, he was scrupulously polite. For the first time
since we married he didn't kiss me good night."
She dropped her eyes. She was not sure if Charlie understood. As a rule
Walter took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers and would not
let them go. His whole body grew tender and passionate with his kiss.
"Why do you imagine he didn't say anything?"
"I don't know."
There was a pause. Kitty sat very still on the sandalwood box and looked
with anxious attention at Townsend. His face once more was sullen and
there was a frown between his brows. His mouth drooped a little at the
corners. But all at once he looked up and a gleam of malicious amusement
came into his eyes.
"I wonder if he _is_ going to say anything."
She did not answer. She did not know what he meant.
"After all, he wouldn't be the first man who's shut his eyes in a case
of this sort. What has he to gain by making a row? If he'd wanted to
make a row he would have insisted on coming into your room." His eyes
twinkled and his lips broke into a broad smile. "We should have looked a
pair of damned fools."
"I wish you could have seen his face last night."
"I expect he was upset. It was naturally a shock. It's a damned
humiliating position for any man. He always looks a fool. Walter doesn't
give me the impression of a fellow who'd care to wash a lot of dirty
linen in public."
"I don't think he would," she answered reflectively. "He's very
sensitive, I've discovered that."
"That's all to the good as far as we're concerned. You know, it's a very
good plan to put yourself in somebody else's shoes and ask yourself how
you would act in his place. There's only one way in which a man can save
his face when he's in that sort of position and that is to pretend he
knows nothing. I bet you anything you like that that is exactly what
he's going to do."
The more Townsend talked the more buoyant he became. His blue eyes
sparkled and he was once more his gay and jovial self. He irradiated an
encouraging confidence.
"Heaven knows, I don't want to say anything disagreeable about him, but
when you come down to brass tacks a bacteriologist is no great shakes.
The chances are that I shall be Colonial Secretary when Simmons goes
home, and it's to Walter's interest to keep on the right side of me.
He's got his bread and butter to think of, like the rest of us: do you
think the Colonial Office are going to do much for a fellow who makes a
scandal? Believe me, he's got everything to gain by holding his tongue
and everything to lose by kicking up a row."
Kitty moved uneasily. She knew how shy Walter was and she could believe
that the fear of a scene, and the dread of public attention, might have
influence upon him; but she could not believe that he would be affected
by the thought of a material advantage. Perhaps she didn't know him very
well, but Charlie didn't know him at all.
"Has it occurred to you that he's madly in love with me?"
He did not answer, but he smiled at her with roguish eyes. She knew and
loved that charming look of his.
"Well, what is it? I know you're going to say something awful."
"Well, you know, women are often under the impression that men are much
more madly in love with them than they really are."
For the first time she laughed. His confidence was catching.
"What a monstrous thing to say!"
"I put it to you that you haven't been bothering much about your husband
lately. Perhaps he isn't quite so much in love with you as he was."
"At all events I shall never delude myself that _you_ are madly in love
with me," she retorted.
"That's where you're wrong."
Ah, how good it was to hear him say that! She knew it and her belief in
his passion warmed her heart. As he spoke he rose from the bed and came
and sat down beside her on the sandalwood box. He put his arm round her
waist.
"Don't worry your silly little head a moment longer," he said. "I
promise you there's nothing to fear. I'm as certain as I am of anything
that he's going to pretend he knows nothing. You know, this sort of
thing is awfully difficult to prove. You say he's in love with you;
perhaps he doesn't want to lose you altogether. I swear I'd accept
anything rather than that if you were my wife."
She leaned towards him. Her body became limp and yielding against his
arm. The love she felt for him was almost torture. His last words had
struck her: perhaps Walter loved her so passionately that he was
prepared to accept any humiliation if sometimes she would let him love
her. She could understand that; for that was how she felt towards
Charlie. A thrill of pride passed through her, and at the same time a
faint sensation of contempt for a man who could love so slavishly.
She put her arm lovingly round Charlie's neck.
"You're simply wonderful. I was shaking like a leaf when I came here and
you've made everything all right."
He took her face in his hand and kissed her lips.
"Darling."
"You're such a comfort to me," she sighed.
"I'm sure you need not be nervous. And you know I'll stand by you. I
won't let you down."
She put away her fears, but for an instant unreasonably she regretted
that her plans for the future were shattered. Now that all danger was
past she almost wished that Walter were going to insist on a divorce.
"I knew I could count on you," she said.
"So I should hope."
"Oughtn't you to go and have your tiffin?"
"Oh, damn my tiffin."
He drew her more closely to him and now she was held tight in his arms.
His mouth sought hers.
"Oh, Charlie, you must let me go."
"Never."
She gave a little laugh, a laugh of happy love and of triumph; his eyes
were heavy with desire. He lifted her to her feet and not letting her go
but holding her close to his breast he locked the door.
_xxi_
All through the afternoon she thought of what Charlie had said about
Walter. They were dining out that evening and when he came back from the
Club she was dressing. He knocked at her door.
"Come in."
He did not open.
"I'm going straight along to dress. How long will you be?"
"Ten minutes."
He said nothing more, but went to his own room. His voice had that
constrained note which she had heard in it the night before. She felt
fairly sure of herself now. She was ready before he was and when he came
downstairs she was already seated in the car.
"I'm afraid I've kept you waiting," he said.
"I shall survive it," she replied, and she was able to smile as she spoke.
She made an observation or two as they drove down the hill, but he
answered curtly. She shrugged her shoulders; she was growing a trifle
impatient: if he wanted to sulk, let him, she didn't care. They drove in
silence till they reached their destination. It was a large dinner
party. There were too many people and too many courses. While Kitty
chatted gaily with her neighbours she watched Walter. He was deathly
pale and his face was pinched.
"Your husband is looking rather washed out. I thought he didn't mind the
heat. Has he been working very hard?"
"He always works hard."
"I suppose you're going away soon?"
"Oh, yes, I think I shall go to Japan as I did last year," she said.
"The doctor says I must get out of the heat if I don't want to go all to
pieces."
Walter did not as usual when they were dining out give her a little
smiling glance now and then. He never looked at her. She had noticed
that when he came down to the car he kept his eyes averted, and he did
the same when, with his usual politeness, he gave her his hand to
alight. Now, talking with the women on either side of him, he did not
smile, but looked at them with steady and unblinking eyes; and really
his eyes looked enormous and in that pale face coal black. His face was
set and stern.
"He must be an agreeable companion," thought Kitty ironically.
The idea of those unfortunate ladies trying to indulge in small talk
with that grim mask not a little diverted her.
Of course he knew; there was no doubt about that, and he was furious
with her. Why hadn't he said anything? Was it really because, though
angry and hurt, he loved her as much that he was afraid she would leave
him. The thought made her ever so slightly despise him, but
good-naturedly: after all, he was her husband and he provided her with
board and lodging; so long as he didn't interfere with her and let her
do as she liked she would be quite nice to him. On the other hand,
perhaps his silence was due merely to a morbid timidity. Charlie was
right when he said that no one would hate a scandal more than Walter. He
never made a speech if he could help it. He had told her once that when
he was subpœnaed as a witness on a case where he was to give expert
evidence he had hardly slept for a week before. His shyness was a
disease.
And there was another thing: men were very vain, and so long as no one
knew what had happened it might be that Walter would be content to
ignore it. Then she wondered whether by any possibility Charlie was
right when he suggested that Walter knew which side his bread was
buttered. Charlie was the most popular man in the Colony and soon would
be Colonial Secretary. He could be very useful to Walter; on the other
hand he could make himself very unpleasant if Walter put his back up.
Her heart exulted as she thought of her lover's strength and
determination; she felt so defenceless in his virile arms. Men were
strange: it would never have occurred to her that Walter was capable of
such baseness, and yet you never knew; perhaps his seriousness was
merely a mask for a mean and pettifogging nature. The more she
considered it the more likely it seemed that Charlie was right; and she
turned her glance once more on her husband. There was no indulgence in
it.
It happened that just then the women on either side of him were talking
with their neighbours and he was left alone. He was staring straight in
front of him, forgetful of the party, and his eyes were filled with a
mortal sadness. It gave Kitty a shock.
_xxii_
Next day when she was lying down after luncheon dozing, she was aroused
by a knock at her door.
"Who is it?" she cried irritably.
At that hour she was unaccustomed to be disturbed.
"I."
She recognized her husband's voice and she sat up quickly.
"Come in."
"Did I wake you?" he asked as he entered.
"In point of fact you did," she answered in the natural tone she had
adopted with him for the last two days.
"Will you come into the next room? I want to have a little talk with
you."
Her heart gave a sudden beat against her ribs.
"I'll put on a dressing-gown."
He left her. She slipped her bare feet into mules and wrapped herself in
a kimono. She looked in the glass; she was very pale and she put on some
rouge. She stood at the door for a moment, nerving herself for the
interview, and then with a bold face joined him.
"How did you manage to get away from the Laboratory at this hour?" she
said. "I don't often see you at this sort of time."
"Won't you sit down?"
He did not look at her. He spoke gravely. She was glad to do as he
asked: her knees were a little shaky, and unable to continue in that
jocular tone she kept silent. He sat also and lit a cigarette. His eyes
wandered restlessly about the room. He seemed to have some difficulty in
starting.
Suddenly he looked full at her; and because he had held his eyes so long
averted, his direct gaze gave her such a fright that she smothered a
cry.
"Have you ever heard of Mei-tan-fu?" he asked. "There's been a good deal
about it in the papers lately."
She stared at him in astonishment. She hesitated.
"Is that the place where there's cholera? Mr. Arbuthnot was talking
about it last night."
"There's an epidemic. I believe it's the worst they've had for years.
There was a medical missionary there. He died of cholera three days ago.
There's a French convent there and of course there's the Customs man.
Everyone else has got out."
His eyes were still fixed on her and she could not lower hers. She tried
to read his expression, but she was nervous, and she could only discern
a strange watchfulness. How could he look so steadily? He did not even
blink.
"The French nuns are doing what they can. They've turned the orphanage
into a hospital. But the people are dying like flies. I've offered to go
and take charge."
"You?"
She started violently. Her first thought was that if he went she would
be free and without let or hindrance could see Charlie. But the thought
shocked her. She felt herself go scarlet. Why did he watch her like
that? She looked away in embarrassment.
"Is that necessary?" she faltered.
"There's not a foreign doctor in the place."
"But you're not a doctor, you're a bacteriologist."
"I am an M.D., you know, and before I specialised I did a good deal of
general work in a hospital. The fact that I'm first and foremost a
bacteriologist is all to the good. It will be an admirable chance for
research work."
He spoke almost flippantly and when she glanced at him she was surprised
to see in his eyes a gleam of mockery. She could not understand.
"But won't it be awfully dangerous?"
"Awfully."
He smiled. It was a derisive grimace. She leaned her forehead on her
hand. Suicide. It was nothing short of that. Dreadful! She had not
thought he would take it like that. She couldn't let him do that. It was
cruel. It was not her fault if she did not love him. She couldn't bear
the thought that he should kill himself for her sake. Tears flowed
softly down her cheeks.
"What are you crying for?"
His voice was cold.
"You're not obliged to go, are you?"
"No, I go of my own free will."
"Please don't, Walter. It would be too awful if something happened.
Supposing you died?"
Though his face remained impassive the shadow of a smile once more
crossed his eyes. He did not answer.
"Where is this place?" she asked after a pause.
"Mei-tan-fu? It's on a tributary of the Western River. We should go up
the Western River and then by chair."
"Who is we?"
"You and I."
She looked at him quickly. She thought she had heard amiss. But now the
smile in his eyes had travelled to his lips. His dark eyes were fixed on
her.
"Are you expecting me to come too?"
"I thought you'd like to."
Her breath began to come very fast. A shudder passed through her.
"But surely it's no place for a woman. The missionary sent his wife and
children down weeks ago and the A. P. C. man and his wife came down. I
met her at a tea-party. I've just remembered that she said they left
some place on account of cholera."
"There are five French nuns there."
Panic seized her.
"I don't know what you mean. It would be madness for me to go. You know
how delicate I am. Dr. Hayward said I must get out of Tching-Yen on
account of the heat. I could never stand the heat up there. And cholera.
I should be frightened out of my wits. It's just asking for trouble.
There's no reason for me to go. I should die."
He did not answer. She looked at him in her desperation and she could
hardly restrain a cry. His face had a sort of black pallor which
suddenly terrified her. She saw in it a look of hatred. Was it possible
that he wanted her to die? She answered her own outrageous thought.
"It's absurd. If you think you ought to go it's your own lookout. But
really you can't expect me to. I hate illness. A cholera epidemic. I
don't pretend to be very brave and I don't mind telling you that I
haven't pluck for that. I shall stay here until it's time for me to go
to Japan."
"I should have thought that you would want to accompany me when I am
about to set out on a dangerous expedition."
He was openly mocking her now. She was confused. She did not quite know
whether he meant what he said or was merely trying to frighten her.
"I don't think anyone could reasonably blame me for refusing to go to a
dangerous place where I had no business or where I could be of no use."
"You could be of the greatest use; you could cheer and comfort me."
She grew even a little paler.
"I don't understand what you're talking about."
"I shouldn't have thought it needed more than average intelligence."
"I'm not going, Walter. It's monstrous to ask me."
"Then I shall not go either. I shall immediately file my petition."
_xxiii_
She looked at him blankly. What he said was so unexpected that at the
first moment she could hardly gather its sense.
"What on earth are you talking about?" she faltered.
Even to herself her reply rang false, and she saw the look of disdain
which it called forth on Walter's stern face.
"I'm afraid you've thought me a bigger fool than I am."
She did not quite know what to say. She was undecided whether
indignantly to assert her innocence or to break out into angry
reproaches. He seemed to read her thoughts.
"I've got all the proof necessary."
She began to cry. The tears flowed from her eyes without any particular
anguish and she did not dry them: to weep gave her a little time to
collect herself. But her mind was blank. He watched her without concern,
and his calmness frightened her. He grew impatient.
"You're not going to do much good by crying, you know."
His voice, so cold and hard, had the effect of exciting in her a certain
indignation. She was recovering her nerve.
"I don't care. I suppose you have no objection to my divorcing you. It
means nothing to a man."
"Will you allow me to ask why I should put myself to the smallest
inconvenience on your account?"
"It can't make any difference to you. It's not much to ask you to behave
like a gentleman."
"I have much too great a regard for your welfare."
She sat up now and dried her eyes.
"What _do_ you mean?" she asked him.
"Townsend will marry you only if he is correspondent and the case is so
shameless that his wife is forced to divorce him."
"You don't know what you're talking about," she cried.
"You stupid fool."
His tone was so contemptuous that she flushed with anger. And perhaps
her anger was greater because she had never before heard him say to her
any but sweet, flattering and delightful things. She had been accustomed
to find him subservient to all her whims.
"If you want the truth you can have it. He's only too anxious to marry
me. Dorothy Townsend is perfectly willing to divorce him and we shall be
married the moment we're free."
"Did he tell you that in so many words or is that the impression you
have gained from his manner?"
Walter's eyes shone with bitter mockery. They made Kitty a trifle
uneasy. She was not quite sure that Charlie had ever said exactly that
in so many words.
"He's said it over and over again."
"That's a lie and you know it's a lie."