It followed that Dominic Iglesias walked on across the common to Barnes
Station and travelled Citywards, solaced and uplifted in spirit, yet
greatly troubled by the idea of those newly arrived complications at
which the Lady of the Windswept Dust had hinted. He did not permit
himself to inquire what they might be. Doubtless she knew best--in her
social sense he had great confidence--so he acquiesced in her silence
about them. Still, as he reflected, it is not a little lamentable that
even friendship, the angelic relation between man and woman, should be
thus beset by perils from within and pitfalls without. Where lay the
fault--with over-civilisation and the improper proprieties resultant
therefrom? Or was it of far more ancient origin, resident in the very
foundations of human nature? Woman, eternally the vehicle of man's
being, eternally the inspiration of quite three-fifths of his action;
yet, at the same time, the eternal stumbling block and danger to the
highest of his moral and intellectual attainment! Mr. Iglesias smiled
sadly and soberly to himself as the train rolled on into Waterloo. In
any case she remains the most astonishing of God's creatures. It would
be dull enough here on earth without her, though, to employ one of
Poppy's characteristic phrases, "it's most infernally risky" with!
But once inside the bank, such far-ranging meditations gave place to
considerations immediate and concrete, Iglesias' whole mind being
focussed to arrive at the facts of the case. And this was far from
easy. For alarm stalked those usually self-secure and self-complacent
rooms and glass and mahogany-walled corridors; men looking up from
their desks as he, Iglesias, passed, with anxious faces, or moving with
hushed footsteps as though someone lay sick to death within the house.
In Sir Abel Barking's private room the drama reached its climax, panic
sitting there sensibly enthroned. Her chill presence had visibly
affected Sir Abel, causing the contrast between the overblown portrait
upon the wall and the subject of it to be ironical to the point of
cruelty. For Sir Abel was aged and shrivelled. His clothes hung loose
upon him. Hardly could he rally his tongue to the enunciation of a
single platitude even of the most obviously staring sort. The mighty,
indeed, were fallen and the weapons of wealth-getting perished! Yet
never had Iglesias felt so drawn in sympathy towards his late employer,
for the spectre of possible ruin had made Sir Abel almost humble,
almost human.
"I am obliged to you for responding to my summons so promptly--yes, sit
down, my good friend, sit down," he said. "It is necessary that I
should converse with you at some length, and I refuse to keep you
standing. Our present position is inexplicable to me. Granting that my
nephew Reginald is unworthy of the trust we reposed in his ability and
probity, there was still our own judgment in reserve, and our own
unquestioned capacity to meet any strain upon our resources. That our
confidence in these last was misplaced is still incredible to me. I am
completely baffled. The past few months, indeed, with their reiterated
discovery of difficulty and of loss, have been a terrible tax upon my
fortitude. Veteran financier though I am, I own to you, Iglesias, there
have been moments when I feared that I, too, should give way. Only my
sense of the duty I owe to my own reputation has supported me." Sir
Abel turned sideways in his chair. His eyes sought the derisive
portrait upon the wall, contemplation of which appeared to reanimate
his self-confidence somewhat, for he continued in his larger manner,
"Nor has the sting of private anxiety been lacking. My younger son has
been called away to the seat of war under circumstances of a peculiarly
affecting character. My earnest hopes for his future, in the shape of a
very desirable marriage, touched on fulfilment--."
But here Iglesias intervened. For his temper began to rise at the
mention of the loves of Alaric Barking. If the springs of Christian
charity, just now welling up so sweetly within him, were not to run
incontinently dry, the conversation, he felt, must be steadied down to
themes of other import. So he civilly but definitely requested Sir Abel
to "come to Hecuba," and to Hecuba the poor man, haltingly yet very
obediently, came. He and his ex-head-clerk seemed, indeed, to have
changed places, so that, before the end of the interview, Iglesias
began to measure himself as never before, to realise his own business
acumen, his quickness of apprehension, his grasp of the issues
presented to him and his own fearlessness of judgment. Whatever the
upshot as to the eventual saving of the credit of Messrs. Barking
Brothers & Barking, Iglesias became increasingly confident of his own
power, and quietly satisfied in the exercise of it.
And so it happened that, although tired in brain and body, his mind
weighted with thought, as were his arms with bundles of papers--which
he carried home for more leisurely inspection--Iglesias came rapidly up
the white steps of Cedar Lodge that night. He was buoyant in spirit,
content with his day's work, keenly interested in the development of
it. Using his latchkey he entered the square panelled hall
silently--with results, for revels were in progress within.
Dinner was over. Mrs. Porcher and the great Eliza, linked arm in arm,
stood near the dining-room door watching, while those two gay young
sparks, Farge and Worthington, inspired by memories of a recent visit
to the Hippodrome, played at lions. It was a simple game, still it gave
pleasure to the players. Clad in an easy-fitting dark blue "lounge
suit," with narrow white cross-bar lines on it, an aged and faded
orange sheep-skin hearthrug thrown gallantly across his shoulders,
Farge, on all fours, with the mildest roarings imaginable, made rushes
from under the dinner-table at the devoted Worthington, who withstood
his fiery onslaught with lungings and brandishings of that truly
classic weapon, the humble necessary umbrella. At each rush the ladies
backed and tittered, clinging together with the most engagingly natural
semblance of terror.
"Ha! caitiff wretch, beware!" declaimed Worthington nobly. "Only across
my prostrate corse shall you reach your innocent victims. Say, Charlie
boy," he added in a hurried aside, "I didn't poke you in the eye by
mistake just now, did I?"
"Wurra--wurra--wurra," roared Farge. "Never touched me, Bert, by a
couple of inches--wurra."
But there the would-be ferocious animal paused, squatted upon its
haunches, pointing its finger dramatically towards the front door, thus
causing the whole company to wheel round and gaze nervously in the
direction indicated.
"Oh, Mr. Iglesias, how you did startle me!" Mrs. Porcher cried
plaintively, laying her hand upon her heart.
"Pardon me," he answered. "I had no idea the hall was occupied or I
would have rung instead of letting myself in. I must apologise further
for being so late, and for not having telephoned that I should be
unable to be back in time for dinner."
"We all know that there are counter-attractions, which may easily
account for unpunctuality," Miss Hart put in, with a toss of her head.
"Hush, hush, dear Liz," murmured Mrs. Porcher, while the two young men
made round eyes at each other, and de Courcy Smyth, leaning against the
balusters on the landing of the half-flight, announced his presence by
a sarcastic laugh.
Mr. Iglesias looked from one to another in surprise. He had been
thinking so very little--perhaps, as he told himself, insolently
little--about all these good people for some time past. Now he became
aware of a hostile atmosphere. For cause unknown he was in disgrace
with them all. Possibly they resented his indifference, possibly they
were justified in so doing. Hence he did not feel angry, but merely
sorry and perplexed. He addressed his hostess with increased
courtliness of bearing.
"I hope I have not caused you inconvenience, Mrs. Porcher," he said. "I
was summoned suddenly upon business to the City this morning. The
business in question proved more complicated than I had anticipated,
and I was detained by it till late. This leads me to tell you, if you
will forgive my troubling you with personal matters, that I shall be
compelled to go to the City daily for some weeks to come. I shall not,
therefore, be able to give myself the pleasure of joining you at
luncheon, or probably at dinner, either."
"Indeed," Mrs. Porcher remarked. "This is rather unexpected, Mr.
Iglesias."
"To me wholly unexpected," he answered, "and in some respects
unwelcome; but it is unavoidable, unfortunately."
He bowed gravely to the two ladies and, ignoring the rest of the little
company, went on his way upstairs. At the half-flight Smyth stood aside
to let him pass; then, after a moment's hesitation, followed him.
"Mr. Iglesias," he said, "may I be permitted so far to presume upon our
acquaintance as to remind you that you received a letter from me this
morning requiring an answer?"
Dominic paused at the stair-head.
"Yes, I received it," he replied coldly.
"And you condescended to read it, so I venture to imagine,
notwithstanding that you were summoned on important business to the
City. We are all impressed by that interesting fact--vastly impressed
by it, needless to state. I specially so, of course, since commerce in
all its branches, as you know, commands my profoundest admiration and
respect. Literature and art are but as garbage compared with it--no one
ever recognised that gratifying truth more thoroughly than I do myself.
Still, the shopkeeper--I beg your pardon, financier I should have
said--is not wholly exempted, by the ideal character of his calling,
from keeping his promises even to poor devils of scholars and literary
men such as myself."
Smyth swaggered, his hands in his trouser pockets, his glance at once
impertinent and malevolent, his manner easy to the point of insolence.
"I venture to remind you of my letter, therefore, and I may add I shall
feel obliged if you'll just hand me over those notes without delay."
"I read your letter," Iglesias answered. "It required consideration."
"Oh! did it, really? I supposed that I had expressed myself with
perfect lucidity. But if any point appeared to you to need explanation,
I am disengaged at the present time--I am quite willing to explain."
"Thank you," Iglesias answered, "no explanation is necessary on your
part, I believe, though perhaps a little is on mine. I must ask you to
remember that I promised to help you within reasonable relation to my
means. What constitutes a reasonable relation it is for me to judge,
since I alone know what my means are. I regret to tell you that your
last demand greatly exceeded that reasonable relation. I am therefore
reluctantly obliged to refuse it."
"To refuse it?" Smyth exclaimed incredulously.
"Yes, to refuse it," Iglesias said calmly. "When your play is ready for
production I am prepared to bear the cost of two representations, as I
have already told you. But I am not prepared to make you unlimited
advances meanwhile. To do so would be no kindness to you--"
"Wouldn't it?" Smyth broke out excitedly. "No kindness to me? Do you
imagine I want kindness, that I would accept or even tolerate kindness
from any man, and particularly from you? I offer you a magnificent
investment, and you speak to me as though I was a beggar asking alms in
the street. No kindness to me? This high moral tone does not become you
in the very least, let me tell you, Mr. Iglesias. Do you suppose I am
such a stoneblind ass as not to see what has been happening. Doesn't it
occur to you that I hold your reputation in my two hands?"
"My reputation?" Iglesias repeated, a very blaze of pride and
indignation in his eyes.
Smyth backed hastily away from him, with a livid face and shaking knees.
"No, no, Mr. Iglesias," he protested. "I was a fool to say that. But I
am utterly beaten by work and by worry. I do not deny that you have
behaved handsomely to me. But persistent injustice and cruelty have
soured me. Is it wonderful? And then to-night those blatant young
idiots, Farge and Worthington, have set my nerves on edge by their
imbecility and conceit, till I really am not accountable for what I
say. I had better go. We can talk of this at another time. I dare say I
can manage for a day or two, though it will not be easy to do so.
However, I am accustomed to rubbing shoulders with every created
description of undeserved indignity and wretchedness. I will go.
Good-night."
Iglesias entered his sitting-room, turned up the gas, and looked round
at the orderly aspect of the place with a movement of relief. He ranged
the bundles of papers upon the table. If he was to master their
contents he would have to work far into the night, and the day had been
a long one, full of application and of very varied emotions. He stood
for a little space thinking of it all. The return to his familiar
quarters at the bank had affected him less than he had expected. He had
not felt it as a return to slavery.
"Thanks to the Church," he said gratefully, "which confers on her
members the only perfect freedom, namely, freedom of soul, freedom of
heavenly citizenship."
Then he thought of Poppy--thought very tenderly of that strangely
captivating woman of many moods! How clever she was, how accurately she
knew the ways of men! Her warnings regarding his dabbling in matters
theatrical, for instance, and charities to unsuccessful
playwrights.--And at that point Dominic Iglesias drew himself up short.
For, in a flash, the truth came to him that Poppy St. John's hated
"jackal of a husband" was none other than his fellow-lodger, de Courcy
Smyth, whose shuffling footsteps he heard even now, nervelessly
crossing and recrossing the floor of the room immediately above.