SHALL A MAN ESCAPE HIS FATE?
On the way to the Danish Legation, Colonel Harris asked Luke what his
plans were for the evening.
"I shall," replied Luke, "call at Grosvenor Square. I may find Uncle
Rad, or Philip, or both at home. I mean to have a good tussle about
this wintering abroad. It's really most important."
"I call it criminal," retorted Colonel Harris, "keeping a man in
London who has been used to go south in the winter for the past twenty
years at least."
"Uncle Rad is still fairly well now, though I do think he looks more
feeble than usual. He ought to go at once."
"But," suggested Louisa, "he oughtn't to go alone."
"No. He certainly ought not."
"Would Mr. de Mountford go with him?"
"I don't think so."
"This new man of his, then?"
"That," said Luke hotly, "would be madness. The man is really a
drunkard."
"But somebody ought to go."
"Edie would be only too willing--if she is allowed."
"Edie?" exclaimed Louisa.
And she added with a smile:
"What will Reggie Duggan have to say to that?"
"Nothing," he replied quietly. "Reggie Duggan has cried off."
"You don't mean that."
"He has given up Edie who has little or nothing a year, and become
engaged to Marian Montagu who has eight thousand pounds a year of her
own."
"Poor Edie!" murmured Louisa, whilst Colonel Harris's exclamation was
equally to the point and far more forcible, and more particularly
concerned the Honourable Reginald Duggan.
"Yes," rejoined Luke, "it has hit her hard, coming on the top of other
things. There's no gainsaying the fact, is there, Colonel Harris, that
we four brothers and sister owe something to Uncle Arthur's son?"
"The handle of a riding whip," came from out the depths of Colonel
Harris's fur coat. "Stupid way parsons have of saying that to wish a
man dead is tantamount to murder. I am committing murder now for a
matter of that, for I wish that blackguard were buried in one of his
native earthquakes."
"Would to God," added Luke, "that wishing alone would do it."
There was so much wrath, such hatred and contempt in those words that
Louisa instinctively whispered:
"Hush, Luke! don't talk like that."
And Colonel Harris somewhat ostentatiously cleared his throat and
said:
"Don't let us think of that confounded Philip."
Luke took leave of Colonel Harris and of Louisa at the door of the
Danish Legation. He waited on the carpeted curb beneath the awning
until he saw her white evening cloak disappear in the door-way.
The fog had become very dense. Just here where a number of carriage
lamps threw light around, one could distinguish faces and forms
immediately close to one, but as Luke turned away from the brilliant
lights, he realized how thick was the pall which enveloped London
to-night. He looked at his watch; it was close upon eight. The next
few minutes brought him to the door of Lord Radclyffe's house.
He rang but obtained no answer. He rang again and again and finally
came to the conclusion that his uncle and cousin were as usual dining
out and that the elderly couple who did perfunctory service in the
house were either asleep or out of ear-shot or had taken the
opportunity of seeking amusement in a neighbouring public house.
But Luke was worried about Lord Radclyffe; moreover he had made up his
mind that he would speak to him and to Philip to-night, with regard to
the imperative wintering abroad for the old man.
The Veterans' Club was unknown to Luke, but Shaftesbury Avenue was
not. He turned into Oxford Street and as taxicabs were now a forbidden
luxury he hailed a passing omnibus and jumped into it, and thus was
rapidly conveyed into the very heart of the fog which had found its
haven around Piccadilly Circus.