THE ARCH TRAITOR.
I dismissed John Lax, charging him with the most profound secrecy. I
knew, and had known for a long time, that this man, formerly the avowed
enemy of aristocrats, nourished an extraordinary hatred for the Arch
Physician, and therefore I was certain that he would keep silence.
I resolved that I would myself keep a watch, and, if possible, be
present at the meeting of this evening. What would happen I knew not,
nor could I tell what to do; there are no laws in our community to
prevent such meetings. If the Arch Physician chooses to attend such a
play-acting, how is he to be prevented? But I would myself watch. You
shall hear how I was rewarded.
Dr. Linister was, as usual, melancholy and preoccupied at Supper.
He said nothing of what he intended. As for me, I looked about the
Hall to see if there were any whom I could detect, from any unnatural
restlessness, as members of this dangerous company; but I could see
none, except the girl Christine, whose vivacity might be allowed on
the score of youth. The face of John Lax, it is true, as he sat at
the lowest place of our table, betokened an ill-suppressed joy and an
eagerness quite interesting to one who understood the meaning of these
emotions. Poor John Lax! Never again shall we find one like unto him
for zeal and strength and courage.
I waited until half-past nine o'clock; then I sallied forth.
It was a dark night and still. There was no moon; the sky was cloudy;
no wind was in the air, and from time to time there were low rumblings
of distant thunder.
I made my way cautiously and noiselessly through the dark Garden to
the entrance of the Picture Gallery, which the faithful John Lax had
left open for me. I ventured, with every precaution, into the Gallery.
It seemed quite empty, but at the end there was a door opening into
the Museum, which poured a narrow stream of light straight down the
middle of the Gallery. I crept along the dark wall, and presently found
myself at the end close to this door. And here I came upon the group of
statuary of which John Lax had told me where I could crouch and hide in
perfect safety, unseen myself, yet able to see everything that went on
within.
I confess that even the revelations of John Lax had not prepared me for
the scene which met my eyes. There were thirty or forty men and women
present; the room was lit up; there were flowers in vases set about;
there was a musical instrument, at which one sat down and sang. When
she had finished, everybody began to laugh and talk. Then another sat
down and began to play, and then they went out upon the floor two by
two, in pairs, and began to twirl round like teetotums. As for their
dresses, I never saw the like; for the women were dressed in frocks
of silk--white, pink, cream-colored, trimmed with lace; with jewels
on their arms and necks, and long white gloves, and flowers in their
hair. In their hands they carried fans, and their dresses were low,
exposing their necks, and so much of their arms as was not covered up
with gloves. And they looked excited and eager. The expression which I
had striven so long to impart to their faces, that of tranquillity, was
gone. The old unhappy eagerness, with flashing eyes, flushed cheeks,
and panting breath, was come back to them again. Heavens! what could be
done? As for the men, they wore a black-cloth dress--all alike--why,
then, did they dislike the regulation blue flannel?--with a large
white shirt-front and white ties and white gloves. And they, too, were
full of the restless eagerness and excitement. So different were they
all from the men and women whom I had observed day after day in the
Public Hall, that I could remember not one except the girl Christine,
and--and--yes, among them there was none other than the Arch Physician
himself, laughing, talking, dancing among the rest.
I could see perfectly well through the open door, and I was quite
certain that no one could see me; but I crouched lower behind the
marble group when they began to come out two by two, and to talk
together in the dark Gallery.
First came the girl Christine and the sailor, Jack Carera. Him at all
events I remembered. They took each other's hands and began to kiss
each other, and to talk the greatest nonsense imaginable. No one would
ever believe that sane people could possibly talk such nonsense. Then
they went back and another pair came out, and went on in the same
ridiculous fashion. One has been to a Theatre in the old time and heard
a couple of lovers talking nonsense on the stage; but never on any
stage did I ever hear such false, extravagant, absurd stuff talked as I
did when I lay hidden behind that group in marble.
Presently I listened with interest renewed, because the pair which
came into the Gallery was none other than the pair I had that morning
watched in the Garden--the Arch Physician and the woman he called
Mildred, though now I should hardly have known her, because she was so
dressed up and disguised. She looked, indeed, a very splendid creature;
not in the least like a plain woman. And this, I take it, was what
these would-be great ladies desired--not to be taken as plain women.
Yet they were, in spite of their fine clothes, plain and simple women
just as much as any wench of Whitechapel in the old time.
"Harry," she said, "I thank you from my very heart for coming. Now we
shall have hope."
"What hope?" he replied, "what hope? What can I do for you while the
majority of the College continue to side with Grout? What hope can I
bring you?"
"Never mind the Majority. Consider, Harry. You have the Great Secret.
Let us all go away together and found a new colony, where we will have
no Grout; and we will live our own lives. Do you love me, Harry?"
"Love you, Mildred? Oh"--he sighed deeply--"it is a stream that has
been dammed up all these years!"
"What keeps us here?" asked the girl. "It is that in your hands lies
the Great Secret. Our people would be afraid to go without it. If we
have it, Jack will take us to some island that he knows of across the
seas. But we cannot go without the Secret. You shall bring it with you."
"When could we go?" he asked, whispering.
"We could go at any time--in a day--in a week--when you please. Oh,
Harry, will you indeed rescue us? Will you come with us? Some of us
are resolved to go--Secret or not. I am one of those. Will you let me
go--alone?"
"Is it impossible," he said, "that you should go without the Secret?"
"Yes," she said; "the people would be afraid. But oh, to think of a new
life, where we shall no longer be all the same, but different! Every
one shall have his own possessions again--whatever he can win; every
one his own profession; the women shall dress as they please; we shall
have Art--and Music--and Poetry again. And--oh, Harry!"--she leaned her
head upon his shoulder--"we shall have Love again. Oh, to think of it!
Oh, to think of it! Love once more! And with Love, think of all the
other things that will come back. _They must_ come back, Harry--the old
Faith which formerly made us happy--" Her voice choked, and she burst
into tears.
I crouched behind the statues, listening. What did she cry about? The
old Faith? She could have that if she wanted, I suppose, without crying
over it. No law whatever against it.
Dr. Linister said nothing, but I saw that he was shaking--actually
shaking--and trembling all over. A most remarkable person! Who would
have believed that weakness so lamentable could lie behind so much
science?
"I yield," he said--"I yield, Mildred. The Present is so horrible that
it absolves me even from the most solemn oath. Love has been killed--we
will revive it again. All the sweet and precious things that made
life happy have been killed; Art and Learning and Music, all have
been killed--we will revive them. Yes, I will go with you, my dear;
and--since you cannot go without--I will bring the Secret with me."
"Oh, Harry! Harry!" She flung herself into his arms. "You have made me
more happy than words can tell. Oh, you are mine--you are mine, and I
am yours!"
"As for the Secret," he went on, "it belongs, if it is to be used at
all, to all mankind. Why did the College of Physicians guard it in
their own jealous keeping, save to make themselves into a mysterious
and separate Caste? Must men always appoint sacred guardians of
so-called mysteries which belong to all? My dear, since the Great
Discovery, Man has been sinking lower and lower. He can go very little
lower now. You have been rescued from the appalling fate which Grout
calls the Triumph of Science. Yes--yes--" he repeated, as if uncertain,
"the Secret belongs to all or none. Let all have it and work out their
destiny in freedom, or let none have it, and so let us go back to the
old times, when such great things were done against the fearful odds of
so short and uncertain a span. Which would be the better?"
"Only come with us, my lover. Oh, can a simple woman make you happy?
Come with us; but let our friends know--else they will not come with
us--that whenever we go, we have the Secret."
"It belongs to all," he repeated. "Come with me, then, Mildred, to
the House of Life. You shall be the first to whom the Secret shall be
revealed. And you, if you please, shall tell it to all our friends.
It is the Secret, and that alone, which keeps up the Authority of the
College. Come. It is dark; but I have a key to the North Postern. Come
with me. In the beginning of this new Life which lies before us, I
will, if you wish, give the Secret to all who share it. Come, my Love,
my Bride."
He led her by the hand quickly down the Picture Gallery and out into
the Garden.
I looked round. The silly folk in the Museum were going on with their
masquerade--laughing, singing, dancing. The girl Christine ran in and
out among them with bright eyes and eager looks. And the eyes of the
sailor, Jack Carera, followed her everywhere. Oh yes. I knew what those
eyes meant--the old selfishness--the subjection of the Woman. She was
to be his Property. And yet she seemed to like it. Forever and anon
she made some excuse to pass him, and touched his hand as she passed
and smiled sweetly. I dare say that she was a beautiful girl--but
Beauty has nothing at all to do with the Administration of the people.
However, there was no time to be lost. The Arch Physician was going to
betray the Great Secret.
Happily he would have to go all the way round to the North Postern.
There was time, if I was quick, to call witnesses, and to seize him in
the very act. And then--the Penalty. Death! Death! Death!