BY THE 9.10; THE FIRST PART OF THE JOURNEY
Rodney Elmore returned by the 9.10 to town. He had meant to travel by
the Pullman, but as he entered the station the train was drawing clear
of the platform. Being informed that another express was starting in
ten minutes, he had to be content with that. Beyond doubt the Pullman
had been crowded; as he found himself the sole occupant of a
first-class carriage, he was inclined to think that he had not lost
by the exchange. He was in a mood for privacy. Events had followed
each other so quickly; he had so many things to consider that he was
glad of an opportunity for a little solitary self-communion. He was
not pleased, therefore, when, just as the signal had been given to
start, someone came rushing along the platform, the door was thrown
open by an officious guard, and a passenger was hoisted into his
compartment while the train was already in motion; nor was his
pleasure enhanced by the discovery that the intruder was his uncle,
Graham Patterson. In such disorder had Mr. Patterson been thrown that
it was some seconds before he even realised that he had a companion.
Uncovering, he wiped first his brow, then the lining of his hat. He
panted so for breath that his critical nephew said to himself that
if he had run a little further, or even a little faster, he might
have panted in vain; he had never seen a man in such difficulty with
his breathing apparatus. His face was purple, his eyes seemed to be
bulging out of their sockets.
The train had passed Preston Park station before Mr. Patterson had
sufficiently recovered himself to become alive to the fact that he was
not alone. But that he still did not recognise his companion his words
showed.
"I'm not exactly--of the build--to--run after trains."
The moment he spoke Rodney became aware that Mr. Patterson had been
drinking. Not enough, perhaps, to affect his speech--the hyphenated
form of the remark he had just made was owing to the trouble he still
had to breathe--but sufficient to place him at the point which divides
the drunk from the sober. Elmore was still; possibly because he was
unwilling to spoil what he felt was the grim humour of the situation.
His silence apparently struck the other as odd. Presently Mr.
Patterson glanced round as if to learn what manner of person this was
who offered no comment on his observation. Then he perceived who his
companion was.
The discovery seemed to fill him with amazement which approached to
stupefaction. His jaw dropped, his eyes bulged still farther out of
his head, his face assumed a darker shade of purple; he looked like a
man who was on the verge of a fit. His nephew felt that he had never
seen him present so unprepossessing a spectacle. His surprise was so
great that an appreciable space of time passed before he could find
words to give it expression. Then they were of a lurid kind.
"By gad!--it's you! Well, I'm damned!"
"I'm sorry, sir, to hear it."
The retort was so obvious that it had slipped from Rodney's lips
almost before he was aware. Its effect on Mr. Patterson was so great
that for some moments his nephew was convinced that that apoplectic
fit which he had so often seen threatening was hideously close. Mr.
Patterson himself seemed conscious of the risk he ran. He made a
perceptible effort to regain self-control--a painful one it evidently
was. He put his finger to his collar as if to loosen it; one could see
that his hand shook, his lips trembled, beads of sweat stood on his
brow. Probably more than a minute had passed before he felt himself in
a condition to speak again. Still his voice was a little hoarse, his
utterance not quite clear.
"My lad, if I could have got at you this morning I should have killed
you."
"Should you, indeed, sir. Pray why?"
The young man had been observing his senior's plight with a sense, not
only of amusement, but of positive relish. He was conscious that a
spirit of malice had entered into him. He was prepared to return
insolence with insolence. This bloated relative of his should this
time not find him disposed to cringe.
Still with his finger to his neck, as if he would have liked to loosen
his collar, Mr. Patterson went on, yet a little huskily:
"Luckily I didn't get at you, because I'll do worse than kill you,
now."
"I thank you for your kind intentions, sir. You have not yet told me
what I have done to deserve them."
"You've been getting at that girl of mine again."
"You use unpleasant phrases, sir. I'm afraid you have been drinking."
"You young swine! In spite of what I told you, last night you took her
out with you again to dinner."
"Premising that I don't see why you should so resent my showing little
courtesies to members of your family, may I ask on what grounds your
statement is based?"
"You young word-twister! You've your father's tongue. Do you deny it?"
"That I've my father's tongue?"
"That you took my girl to dinner?"
"It's for you to prove; not for me to disprove."
"A man came to me on the front this morning and said that he saw my
daughter dining last night in Jermyn Street with a young man. He
described the fellow; from his description I knew that it was you. If
I could have got at you then and there I'd have broken my stick across
your back! I'd have--I'd have---- Are you going to tell a lie, and say
it wasn't you?"
"It was."
"It was?"
"It was. Why not? We had a most agreeable evening, much more
agreeable, perhaps, than you have any notion of. Possibly, if you ask
Gladys, she herself will tell you so."
"You--you----!"
"Steady--go slow! If you don't take care you'll have a fit--you know
you have been drinking."
Possibly because he had given way to such a sudden access of rage, Mr.
Patterson again went through all his former disagreeable physical
experiences, while his nephew smiled. He sat inarticulate and gasping,
incapable alike of speech or movement. When, after a prolonged
interval, the faculty of speech returned, his voice had grown huskier
than ever; he spoke slowly, with a pause between each word.
"All right, my lad--laugh, but you won't laugh last. You're not going
to put me in the cart, as your swindler of a father did; I'm going to
put you there. I warned you what would be the result of your
attempting to have any more traffic with my girl, so you've yourself
to thank for whatever happens."
He stopped, as if he found a difficulty in saying much at once. When
he continued, while his tones were a little clearer, they were more
bitter.
"Directly I get home I'm going to tell my girl what kind of man you
are, and what kind of man your delectable father was. When she knows,
I'll wager you a trifle that she never willingly speaks to you again;
she'll despise herself for ever having spoken to you at all; she'll
treat you in the future as if you had never been. She has her faults,
but she resembles her father on one point--she has no use for a thief,
and especially for a thief who is the son of a thief."
Another pause; this time, apparently, not so much for the sake of
gaining breath as to enable his words to have their full effect on the
smiling young man at the other end of the carriage. If he looked for
some sign of their having touched him on a sensitive spot, he found
none; the young man continued to smile. Possibly because he suspected
that it might be the other's intention to irritate, he kept himself
the more in hand. Leaning back in his seat, laying his parti-coloured
silk handkerchief across his knee, for the first time he wore an
appearance of ease, and he also began to smile.
"However, since I'm a cautious man, and you never can be certain what
trick a blackguard will play upon a girl, I'll make assurance doubly
sure; I'll take steps which will render it impossible for you to play
a trick on my girl. The first thing to-morrow morning I'll take out a
warrant for your arrest as a forger and a thief, and I'll give
instructions to have it executed at once; so, you see, I'm better than
my word, as I generally am. I warned you that if you dared to force
yourself upon my girl again I'd have you gaoled, and I will. But I
didn't undertake to give you a chance to show the police a clean pair
of heels; yet I'm giving you one. If, between this and to-morrow
morning--say, at ten--you can make yourself scarce, you can. But
you'll have to be spry, because I give you my word that if the police
do let the scent go cold it won't be for want of my urging them after
you. You may run to earth if you like, but they'll dig you out. Don't
you flatter yourself on your dodging powers; they'll get the handcuffs
on your wrists."
Picking up his handkerchief with his finger-tips, Mr. Patterson let it
fall again across his knee, smiling broadly as if in the enjoyment of
a joke.
"And don't you flatter yourself that you'll come under the First
Offenders Act--you won't, I'll take care of that. I've a list locked
up in a drawer at the office the details of which, when they are
produced in court, will surprise you. No jury will recommend you to
mercy after hearing that, and no judge will listen to them if they do.
You'll be sentenced to a long term of imprisonment as sure as you are
sitting there. You'll be branded as a felon for the rest of your life.
I'll teach you, you thief, to try to associate as an equal with that
girl of mine."
Again he picked up his handkerchief; on this occasion to wipe his
lips. But this time he did not return it to his knee; he continued to
hold it in his hand--indeed, he waved it affably towards Elmore.
"I owed your father one--such a one! But he never gave me a chance of
paying him. Now I owe you one--also such a one--and I'll pay you both
together--by gad, I will! Oh, you may keep on smiling, you brassbound
blackguard; I hope you'll find the reality as amusing as you seem to
find the prospect. When you feel a policeman's hand upon your shoulder
and handcuffs on your wrists, then you'll stop smiling. Make no
mistake; for you there's only one way of escape, and that's your
father's--suicide."
Stopping, Mr. Patterson thrust his handkerchief into the outer
breast-pocket of his coat in such a fashion that the hem protruded.
There was silence, broken only by the rushing noise made by the train.
All at once Rodney Elmore, rising, moved along the carriage and placed
himself on the seat immediately in front of his uncle.