I think I was dazed at first. Then I was angry that he hadn't told me
before, and then, for a fraction of a second, I was selfishly glad that
our friendship had been reprieved. After that bewilderment came again,
and finally I was calm but immensely puzzled. I asked him if he meant
that the whole arrangement with Karelsky was cancelled, and he said:
"Yes--that's right."
"But--but _why_?"
"Because I--I can't go."
"_Why_ can't you?"
"I--I just _can't_, that's all."
"But there _must_ be a reason!"
"There _is_ a reason."
"What?"
"Well ... to begin with ... it was never absolutely settled that I
_should_ go."
"But you told Severn to-night that you were going."
"Yes ... I thought I _was_ going then."
"And you've changed your mind since?"
"Yes ... I suppose I have."
"But--_why_?"
"Well, I've a right to change my mind, haven't I?"
"Of course, but ..."
And so on.... For a long time I could get nothing at all out of him
except that he had changed his mind and wasn't going. The cleverest
subtleties of cross-examination were wasted on him; whenever I thought I
had manœuvred him into a corner, he just shook his head and said: "I
don't know what there is to argue about. Severn told me I must please
myself.... I'm pleasing myself, that's all." Then, as a last and not too
scrupulous resort, I tried a method that had sometimes succeeded before;
it consisting in pretending to infer from his silences something that I
knew he wouldn't like me to infer. I said: "Well, I daresay you have
good reasons, whatever they are. Karelsky seems rather a keen business
man, and if the terms he offers aren't high enough----"
"Karelsky," he sharply interrupted, "had nothing to do with it."
"Whether he had or not, you haven't any money of your own, and you
obviously can't afford to----"
I guessed that would stir him. He protested with sudden indignation: "I
tell you it isn't a matter of money at all. Good heavens! do you think
I'd let a question of money interfere with--with anything I had thought
of doing?"
"What _would_ you let interfere, then?"
He shook his head. "It's just.... Oh, I can't go--I keep on telling you
I can't go.... That's all."
"It isn't me you ought to be telling. It's Severn. He doesn't know yet,
does he?"
"Not yet."
"Don't you think he'll be rather disappointed?"
"Perhaps. I'm sorry about that.... But all the same, I can't help it.
It's nothing to do with him--the reason, I mean.... I can't help it--I
shall tell him I can't help it!"
So the reason had nothing to do with Severn, and nothing to do with
Karelsky. Then who _was_ the person involved?