"That--that's what is wrong with Basil?"
"Of course I'm sorry, Maggie. You see, you have an income of your own
and at any moment, by refusing to pay the tax on it, you can send Basil
to jail."
"If he were any sort of a husband," I said furiously, "he could pay the
tax and save all the trouble."
"Not at all. The men have banded together. They call it the Husband's
Defence! They take turns at visiting Viv, and sending him books and
things. It's--it's maddening."
Poppy asked me to stay with her. She was really in a bad way. She wasn't
eating or sleeping, and that very night a crowd of men gathered in front
of the house, and hissed and called her things. One of them made a
speech. We listened from behind the curtains. He said his wife was
holding out her taxes on him and he expected to "go up" the next day.
Poppy went out on the balcony and tried to tell them why she had done
it, and that it was a matter of principle, and all that. But they would
not listen, and only jeered. She came back into the drawing room quite
beaten, and covered her face with her hands.
It was the next evening that Basil told us that Vivian, feeling as he
did that he represented the married men of the Kingdom and that he stood
for principle also, had gone on a hunger strike!
* * * * *
After all, it was Daphne who came to the rescue. She came over to
luncheon the day after and found Poppy in bed with cold cloths on her
head, and her wedding ring off. Daphne sniffed.
"You and Viv are two children," she said. "You're a silly for thinking
you can beat the government at its own game, which is taxation, and
Viv's a fool for letting you be one."
Poppy is not placid of disposition, and she flung the cold cloths at
Daphne and ordered her out. But Daphne only wrung out the cloths and
hung them up, and raised the shades.
"You haven't got a headache; you have a pain in your disposition," she
said. "Put this on again."
And Poppy put on her wedding ring.
"Now," said Daphne. "You won't pay this money as a matter of principle,
and Viv won't, for the same reason. I won't because I haven't got it:
Madge probably ditto. But it must be paid. Have you got it in the
house?"
Poppy nodded.
"In notes?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"In my jewel case."
"Very well. Now," said Daphne, "Madge and I are going to fix this thing
up. You are not to know anything about it. You can swear to that later
on, if the question comes up. Is there any place in your studio where
you keep money?"
"In the table drawer."
"Very well. To-night before you go to bed put that money there. Early
to-morrow morning send a maid to the drawer. If, by any chance, it is
not there, send for the police."
Poppy was sitting up in bed, her eyes narrowed.
"The door of that wing is always locked. Viv has one key; I have the
other."
"Never mind about the keys," said Daphne, loftily. "Now lie back and
take a nap. Madge and I are going to look at the new picture. And I'm
taking Madge home to dinner. I want her to go with me to the Edgware
Road meeting to-night."
We did not look at the picture very long. Daphne's lips were shut tight,
and I was feeling very queer. I knew what Daphne meant to do--to have
the exact amount of Poppy's tax stolen from the table, and reported to
the police. And later on in the day to have it sent to the tax office in
Poppy's name. Poppy could swear she had not done it and point to the
robbery. But by that time it would be credited to her name, and Viv
would be free.
"It's a knot," said Daphne, running her fingers through her hair. "It's
past un-tying. We have to cut it."
I know it sounds silly now and father has advised me never to tell
mother, but it seemed the only thing at the time. Here were Viv and
Poppy at an _impasse_, as one may say, and things getting worse every
day--Viv on a hunger strike, and Poppy's work waiting, and the vote,
which was our natural solution, as far off as ever.
"I'll unlock a window in Viv's study," said Daphne, "and you can come
back after midnight and crawl in. I'd do it, but I'm too fat. Once in,
you've only to go up the little staircase to the studio, and get the
money. The key's always in the side door. You can let yourself out."
"But I don't like it, Daphne."
"A broken window," said Daphne, "would look a lot better. More natural,
you know. Here, hold a pillow."
She raised one of Viv's windows a little--we were in his study--and she
put her arm outside, with a paper weight in her hand. A smart tap, and
a pane fell in on my pillow. We listened but no servants had come
running and the house next door was closed and shuttered.
Daphne is very clever. She unlocked the window, drew the shade as it had
been before, and put the glass in a little heap on the floor. The area
was outside, about five feet below.
"I could never do it," I protested. "I--I haven't your courage, Daffie.
Be a dear and do it yourself."
"Have to be at Edgware Road," said Daphne. "After all, Poppy's your
friend. You made the match, didn't you?"
"But if I'm arrested----"
"You won't be. Jane Willoughby is going with me to-night. I'll lend her
some of your clothes and a veil. She can make a speech in your name.
There's an alibi for you!"
Now it sounded all right at the time, but looking back, it seems queer.
For of what use is an alibi if the police have you? But one thing I
would not do. I would not climb in the window. Daphne finally put me
behind one of Poppy's canvases in the studio on a chair.
"They'll _think_ you broke in, which answers as well," she said. "And
you can get the money and let yourself out the side door without any
trouble."
"I sha'n't have any dinner," I reminded her. But she said she'd have
something ready for me at home after I'd committed my crime, and went
down the staircase whistling.
I shall never forget that awful night. I was most uncomfortable. There
was a chance that the servants, locking up, would go into Viv's study
and find the glass, although it was behind the curtain. But I'd seen
Peters lock up before. He stood in a doorway and looked at each window,
and if the curtains did not blow the house was safe. Luckily there was
no wind that evening!
But I hated the whole thing. It got darker and darker and things
scrambled in the walls. Poppy brought the money and put it in a drawer
but of course I did not speak to her. She had to be able to swear she
knew nothing. She kissed Viv's picture which she had painted, and
trotted out again, sighing. Peters did not discover the broken window in
the den below, because he never even went to look. And I felt very
dreary, with no one really caring for me, and so far from America, and
men--like Basil, for instance--acting so strange and uneasy.
Of course I could have taken the money and gone, as soon as it was dark.
But a policeman took up a position outside the area door, and waited for
somebody. He and Peters had a few words about Poppy's maid, and the
policeman said he would see her if he had to stay there all night. He
stayed for hours.
I got the money and put it in my handbag, and because I did not wish to
get it mixed with my own, I put it by itself in one of the pockets. Then
I think I dozed for two or three hours, for when waking the street was
quiet and the policeman had gone away. I was stiff, tired, and out of
humor, and I started down the little staircase past Viv's study to the
area door. As I reached the bottom, somebody tried the lock outside. I
nearly fainted. I turned and ran up in the dark, and the door below
opened. A man came in stealthily and went directly to Vivian's den. And
just then a church clock struck two.
I was frightened. It seemed to me that as soon as he ransacked the room
below, he'd come up to the studio. Perhaps he knew about the money.
Burglars seem to be able to _smell_ money. And the idea of being caught
in the studio, as in a _cul de sac_, made me panicky. I clutched my bag,
and slipped down the staircase, past Vivian's door. The burglar was
there, going through Viv's desk, with a light turned on and a cap down
over his eyes.
I forgot to be cautious then. I bolted for the door, flung it open--it
was a patent lock, with a knob inside--and stepped out into the night
air and the policeman's arms.
"Easy a bit, hold girl!" he said. "Hi'm 'ere and you're 'ere. What's the
'urry?" He held me off and looked at me. Luckily I'd never seen him
before. "Quick with your 'ands, ain't you! In you goes and in five
minutes out you pops!"
"If you think I'm a burglar," I said haughtily, "I'm nothing of the
sort. I'm----" It came over me, all at once, that I'd better not say I
was a friend of Poppy's. You see she was being watched very closely. If
I was searched, and the exact amount of her income tax in my pocket, it
would look very queer, and the whole thing would be out, of course. "The
burglar you followed is still in the house," I said. "He's in Mr.--in
the study, just beyond that door."
"None of that, young woman," he said, sternly. "You'll just come along
with me! 'Ouse-breaking it is; I watched you in and I watched you hout."
He took me by the arm, and I went along. There was nothing else to do. I
tried to drop my hand bag as we went, but he heard it and picked it up.
I was rather dazed. The only thing I could think of was that for the
sake of the Cause and Poppy I must not tell who I was. But I begged him
to send an officer to Poppy's house, because there _was_ a burglar in
it, probably after the idea of Vivian's new novel.
At the police station they telephoned Poppy, and here she made her
terrible mistake. She said afterwards that if Daphne had only explained
she'd have known. But she thought it was all a part of the plot, and
she went back to her studio and said she'd lost the money out of a table
drawer. She told how it was, in notes and gold, and, of course, they
found the exact amount in my bag. She says that when they told her they
had it and a young woman too, she almost swooned. She tried to find
Basil, but he was not in his rooms and Daphne had been arrested at
Edgware Road and was _incommunicado_!
Poppy's position was pitiable. She didn't know what to do. If she
declared the plot and freed me, all London would laugh, and the Cause
would suffer. If she did not declare the plot, I would get a prison
sentence. I have drawn a poor picture of Poppy if you think I stood a
chance against The Cause.
That is how things stood the next morning; Daphne, Vivian and I in jail,
and Poppy in hysterics. Then a curious thing happened. The evening
papers announced that Vivian had paid the tax for Poppy and was free.
Viv repudiated the payment--said he had not done it, and refused his
liberty.
"Mr. Harcourt," said one paper, "is quite thin and shows the strain of
his confinement. He is apparently cheerful, but very feeble, supporting
himself by the back of a chair while he stood. His eyes flashed,
however, as he stated that the Income Tax office could not legally
accept the payment, as it was not his money. If any of his supporters
had, in mistaken zeal, taken a collection for this purpose, he could
only regret their action and refuse to profit by it."
At this time I had refused to talk and Poppy was in bed.
But on the next day the _Times_ published a letter, signed "Only a Man"
which stirred the whole thing up again. The writer declared that the tax
had been paid with Vivian's own money, that the writer himself had
stolen it out of a desk in Mr. Harcourt's house, that it had been sent
by messenger to the proper authorities, and a receipt issued, which was
appended. And that, in other words, while Mr. Harcourt was to be lauded
for his principles, his refusal to accept his liberty was now absurd.
Also, the writer was under the impression that an innocent person was
being held for his crime.
This story being investigated by the authorities and Poppy's recovering
enough to come down and identify me, furiously indignant at my detention
and outraged that I had not told my name and how I came to be leaving
her house at that hour, which she said was because we had had a long
talk about the next campaign, I was freed at last. It leaked out like
this:
(a) Viv was free with no loss of principle.
(b) Poppy's tax was paid, with no loss of principle.
(c) "A Mere Man" was not apprehended.
(d) Basil reappeared, after a heavy cold.
I was not present when Viv and Poppy met, owing to some formalities of
my release. I drove to the house with Poppy's money in my bag, and went
up unannounced. Viv was not pale and wan. He looked rested and fit, and
Poppy was on his knee. When I went in she moved to the arm of his chair,
but no further, and she kept her profile toward him.
They were very apologetic and said how sorry they were, and Poppy said
she knew Daphne and I meant well, but that one wrong would never help
another. I was speechless with rage, and I took from my bag her money
and held it out to her.
"Of course," I said, "Vivian has no idea of who 'A Mere Man' is?"
"None whatever," said Viv shamelessly.
"That's curious," I observed. "I saw him quite distinctly, you know, as
I went down the stairs."
(I had--his back!)
I went out, with my head up. They called to me, and I think Vivian
started to follow. But I got into a taxicab and drove to Daphne's. I was
very depressed.
Basil came to see me that night. Daphne was still in jail, and very
comfortable. She sent me word not to worry, as she was getting new
material for speeches, and had two ready.
I refused to see Basil, but he followed the maid back, and stood looking
down at me.
"Viv says you saw me," he began without any preamble.
"I did, but I didn't recognise you. You've committed yourself."
He changed colour.
"What else was there to do?" he demanded. "Those two geese would have
gone on forever. Viv had the money in his desk, but it was my plan, not
his."
As it happened, I had sent father a cablegram about Viv and Poppy just
before I was arrested, and now I saw his reply on the mantel.
"Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander," he had cabled. Well, I
had had the jail, and Basil had had--a cold! Basil followed my eyes.
"More cablegrams!" he said. "Why doesn't that chap come over and get
you?"
"Because I am going back to him. I can't stand the pressure, Basil. Viv
and Poppy are all right for this year, but how about next? Is it to be
the same thing again?"
"They're going to Italy to live."
"A compromise?" I quoted, rather bitterly. "'Not victory but a truce.'
You and I made that marriage. It was the T. C. that did it."
Basil took the cablegram from the mantel and deliberately read it. When
he got to the signature he drew a long breath and then he grinned.
"So that's that!" he said. "Well, Maggie, are you going back to father,
or--staying here with me?"
"You're afraid of me."
"I'll take the risk, Madge. I didn't tell you, Uncle Egbert died while
you were away."
"I've been in jail for stealing," I quavered. "And I'd do it again,
Basil, for the Cause."
"Bless the Cause," said Basil manfully. "Why shouldn't you vote, if you
want to? Aren't you cleverer, and lovelier, and more courageous than any
man that ever lived? Anyhow, you're right. Things are rotten. What sane
government would lock a man up because his wife refuses to pay her
taxes?"