THE SECOND
Mr. Patterson glared at his nephew as if he had been guilty of a gross
liberty in placing himself where he had done--indeed, he said as much.
"Go back to your own end of the carriage at once, you young scoundrel.
How dare you come so close to me? Isn't it sufficient contamination to
have to breathe the air of the same compartment, without being
polluted by your immediate neighbourhood?"
Rodney was not at all abashed, nor did he show any sign of an
intention to return whence he came. On the contrary, leaning a little
forward, he smiled at his uncle blandly.
"Softly, sir, softly! If you allow yourself to become excited you may
do yourself a mischief--excitement is the worst possible thing for
you."
"None of your insolence, you young hound; don't you think I'll allow
you to be insolent to me! Are you going back to the other end of the
carriage?"
"No, sir; I am not."
"Then----"
Mr. Patterson made as if to move, then checked himself. Rodney asked:
"What were you going to do?"
"If you don't go back to the other end of the carriage at once I'll
pull the communication cord and stop the train."
"And then?"
"I'll give you into custody before the whole trainful of passengers."
"Into whose custody?"
"The guard will take charge of you till we get to a station; he won't
let you go till he has seen you safe in the hands of a policeman. You
won't have a chance of running; you'll sleep in gaol tonight. Are you
going back to your own seat?"
"I propose to remain where I am."
"Then I'll stop the train!"
He made as if to do as he said, but Rodney, rising first, laid his
hand upon his shoulder to such effect that he found himself unable to
move. Indignation brought back the purple to Mr. Patterson's face.
"You dare to touch me? You infernal young villain--take away your
hand!"
"I don't intend to allow you to touch the communication cord."
"You don't intend! We'll see about that."
They did see, on the instant. The black knob of the alarm bell was
over the centre seat in front of Mr. Patterson. Putting out his
strength, evading Rodney's grip, he gained his feet. Elmore took him
by the shoulders with both his hands. There was a scuffle--sharp, but
brief. For a moment it looked as if the elder man might be a match for
the younger, but for a moment only. On a sudden Mr. Patterson
collapsed on to his seat as if the stiffening had gone all out of him
and left him but a mass of boneless pulp. He could only gasp out
words.
"You shall smart for this!"
"If you're not very careful, sir, you'll smart first--my dear uncle."
"Don't you call me your dear uncle."
"My dear uncle."
"Damn you, you----"
A flood of vituperation poured from the elder man's lips, which, when
he had finished, left him an even darker shade of purple. Rodney never
ceased to smile. So soon as the flood had stopped he repeated the
endearing form of address.
"My dear uncle"--Mr. Patterson was panting, for the moment he was
speechless--"turn and turn about's fair play, and fair play's a jewel.
You've had your say, now I'm going to have mine--you'll find mine as
interesting as I found yours. To begin with, I'm going to ask you one
or two questions."
"I'll answer no questions of yours."
"Oh, yes, you will, when you find what they are. In the first place,
am I to understand that you are really serious--weigh your words, my
dear uncle!--in saying that you'd tell Gladys--what you said you'd
tell her?"
"So soon as I get home I'll tell her everything--everything--about
you, and your rascally father, too."
"Will you?"
"I will--as sure as you are living!"
"So surely as that? And are you prepared to take your oath that you'll
take out that warrant you were speaking of, or--was that intended for
a jest?"
"Oath! I'll take no oath to you--you Nature's gaol-bird! But of this I
assure you, you'll sleep in a prison cell to-night, and many and many
another night to come."
Mr. Patterson, dragging the silk handkerchief from his breast pocket,
used it to wipe away the perspiration which again bedewed his brow.
"Shall I?"
"You will."
"Oh, no, I won't; nor will you tell Gladys those unkind things about
me and my father."
"Who the devil's going to stop me?"
"I'm the devil who's going to stop you."
Rodney was leaning a little forward. His uncle stopped in the process
of wiping his brow to stare at him, as if there were something in his
manner which struck him as peculiar. About the young gentleman's lips
was the same easy, unconcerned smile which had been there all the
time; there was a smile also in his eyes--it was, apparently, this
latter which gave him the odd expression which had struck his uncle.
Mr. Patterson glanced about him as if in search of something he would
have liked to find. Rodney sat perfectly still. As he put a query to
him his uncle's pursy lips showed a tendency to twitch.
"How are you going to stop me?"
"Can't you guess how I am going to stop you?"
"I can do nothing of the kind. You can't stop me, or anyone. I am
going to do my duty to my daughter and to society, and nothing can
stop me."
"You know better than that. From something which has just come upon
your face I can see that already you know better."
Mr. Patterson gave what he doubtless meant to be a spring towards the
alarm bell opposite; but, for reasons which were beyond his control,
his movements were slower than they should have been--the younger man
was much too quick for him. Gripping him again by both his shoulders,
exerting greater strength than on the first occasion, he forced him
back upon his seat with a degree of violence which seemed to drive the
sense half out of him. As Rodney, remaining on his feet, stood
towering above him, one perceived more clearly that his was the build
of the athlete, and how great were the probabilities, if they came to
grips, that the big man would be helpless in his hands. He addressed
his uncle as an elder person might have spoken to a mutinous child.
"My dearest uncle--you really must permit me to lay stress upon your
avuncular relationship on what will probably be my last chance of
doing so--you are not going to pull the alarm bell, you are not going
to stop the train. You have no more chance of doing either than you
have of flying to the moon, so get that into your drink-sodden brain.
Nor are you going to libel me to Gladys, nor commit me to the mercy of
a ruthless police. Presently you will see that as clearly as I do
now."
Rodney resumed his seat, still keeping his glance fixed on his uncle,
in whose demeanour a change seemed to have taken place which was both
mental and physical. Possibly his nephew had used more violence than
he supposed. The vigour had gone all out of him; inert, he stared at
Rodney with bloodshot eyes, as if drink had taken sudden effect and
bemused his brain. The young man's smile became more pronounced, as if
he found the singularity of the other's appearance amusing. The tone
of his voice, when he spoke, was genial and pleasant.
"My dear uncle, if you, the only relative I have in the world, had
treated me, when first I entered your office, as you might have been
expected to do, I might have become an affectionate and worthy
nephew."
"Not you. You started robbing me before you'd been in the place a
week."
"Is that so? So soon as that? Perhaps you have never known what it is
to be in want of ready cash."
"When I was eighteen I was keeping myself on fifty pounds a year, for
which I was working anything up to sixteen hours a day."
"Indeed! It might have been better if that period of your life had
lasted longer. You wouldn't have been in the rotten condition you
are."
"What's the matter with my condition? I never had a day's illness in
my life."
"My dear uncle, if you weren't in a rotten condition you'd have rung
that alarm bell before this, wouldn't you? But, although it's only
within a foot or two, you'll never ring it--never, because you are
rotten."
Mr. Patterson glanced towards the black knob. Rodney shook his head.
"It's no good, uncle. You won't be able to get at it--you know that.
What an illustration you are of the desirability of keeping oneself
fit! It seems that from the first you kept a sharper eye on me than I
suspected."
"I'm not the fool you took me for."
"Aren't you? That remains to be seen. Do you think that it was the
part of wisdom to threaten me as you have been doing when you and I
were alone together in a compartment of a railway train which doesn't
stop, at least, till it gets to Croydon?"
"I've not been threatening you; I wouldn't condescend. I've only been
telling you what you may expect."
"That's all; and by doing so you've made the issue a simple one. If
you reach town alive, to all intents I shall be dead; whereas, if you
reach town dead, I--shall be on velvet, because you see, my dear
uncle, I'm Gladys' lover; and she loves me, if possible, even more
than I do her. I've proofs of it. Since she is your only child, when
you are dead everything you have will be hers, which is tantamount to
saying that it will be mine, which is just what I should like. So you
will at once perceive how--from every point of view--very much to my
advantage it would be that you should be dead."
"You young hell-hound! Unfortunately for you, I'm not dead, and I'm
not likely to die."
"Oh, yes, you are, very likely--unfortunately for you. You told me
that my father only found one way to escape trouble--suicide. You
hinted in your most affectionate manner that some time, in my turn, I
might only find one way. Your kindly hint made such an impression on
me that I actually made preparations, so that I might never be at a
loss if ever that time should come. Those preparations are contained
in this dainty little box."
Rodney took from his waistcoat pocket what might have passed as a
silver needle-case or receptacle for pins. He held it out in front of
his uncle, who was as much moved by the sight of it as if it had been
some object of horror.
"You--you're not going to make away with yourself before my eyes?
You--you don't suppose I'll let you do it?"
"How would you propose to stop me?"
Again Mr. Patterson mopped his brow with his silk handkerchief of many
colours. He presented a pitiable spectacle. His lips twitched, his
hand trembled, and his whole huge frame seemed to shiver like a mass
of jelly. His voice was broken and husky, he stammered in his speech.
"Elmore, you--you're quite right; I'm--I'm not very well. I--I've had
a great deal to put up with lately, and it's unhinged me. Give me that
infernal thing you've got there--I don't know what is in it, or if
you're playing a trick with me, but--you give it me."
"I'm going to--shortly."
The young man's airy self-possession was in almost painful contrast to
the elder's agitation. He glanced at his watch, holding the slender,
round case between the finger and thumb of his other hand.
"Nearly half-past nine. What was that station we passed? Was it
Hayward's Heath? I fancy we do stop at Croydon, so that there's not
much time to spare. I'm going to act on your suggestion, uncle--with a
difference. I am not going to commit suicide, but you are!"
"I am?--you young fool!--what do you mean?"
"In fact, you practically have committed suicide already."
"The man's mad."
"Possibly--but not on this particular point. When you told me in such
very coarse language what I might expect, you practically committed
suicide, as--I'm about to prove. You remember the case of the eminent
financier who, within five minutes of being sentenced to a long term
of penal servitude, was in a room which was immediately outside the
court in which he had received his sentence, from which he was
instantly to be haled to gaol, under the very noses of his warders
slipped something between his lips and--escaped. You will probably
remember the case better than I do, since at the time I was only a
boy; yet I have studied it to such purpose that within this pretty
little box are--shall we call them tabloids?--which are in all
essentials identical with the one he swallowed. They kill as by a
flash of lightning. Whoever has one of these within his reach no man
shall stay him from--escaping. You are going to swallow one of these
tabloids, uncle--this one."
Unscrewing the top of his silver box, Rodney removed the cap, and took
from it what looked like a small peppermint lozenge, holding it up
between his finger and thumb.
"You see, uncle--this one; as it were, death reduced to its lowest
possible denomination."
At that moment Rodney seemed to be exercising over his uncle some of
the fabulous qualities attributed to the serpent. Beyond doubt Mr.
Patterson recognised with sufficient vividness that this young man in
front of him was much more dangerous than he had supposed; that he had
underrated his capacity for evil; that he might as well have shut
himself in with a tiger as with his sister's son. But the recognition
came too late. The very force of it had the effect of destroying his
few remaining powers of volition. In face of the deadly purpose with
which he perceived that his nephew was filled, he was as one
paralysed. He could only grow purpler and purpler, and splutter.
"Don't--don't you play any of your infernal tricks on me, you--you
villain! Curse it, why can't I get at that bell!" He made as if to
rise, but, seemingly, was as incapable of movement as if he had been
glued to his seat. As if conscious that his peril was imminent, he
raised his voice to a raucous scream.
"Don't--don't you dare to lay your hands on me! Don't--don't you dare
to touch me! Help!"
As the uncle opened his mouth to cry for aid the nephew caught him by
the throat and slipped between his lips the tiny white lozenge which
he had taken from the silver box. Then he struck up his jaw with a
click and held it shut, so that he could not put it out again. Forcing
back his head, he gripped him tight. His uncle was seized with a
convulsion which seemed to Rodney as if it must have shaken the
carriage. Almost at the same instant it was as if all vitality had
gone clean out of him. The nephew was gripping a limp corpse.