THUNDER IN THE AIR
There was silence in the room--an awkward silence. For some moments
nobody seemed to think that there was anything left to say. It was
noticeable that neither of the trio seemed to care to look the other
in the face. Mr. Ely stood with his hands thrust to the extremest
depths of his trouser pockets, staring moodily, not to say savagely,
at the window through which Miss Truscott had disappeared. Mr. Ash
stroked his chin with something of an embarrassed air--he did not seem
to know where to rest his eyes. From the expression of her
countenance, and from her bearing altogether, Mrs. Clive seemed to
have had the faculty of speech knocked out of her.
As perhaps was natural, Mr. Ely was the first who found his tongue. He
pointed his words by looking at Mrs. Clive out of the corners of his
eyes.
"That's a nice way in which to bring up a girl!"
His tone was distinctly venomous. Mr. Ash continued to stroke his
chin.
"It does seem," he hazarded, in a sort of deprecatory undertone, "it
does seem as though she had imbibed some curious ideas."
"That's the sort of girl to do anybody credit."
"I confess," said Mr. Ash with a little cough, as though he wished to
apologise for his confession, "I confess that I am surprised."
Mrs. Clive, blissfully unconscious that it could enter into anybody's
philosophy to think of attacking her, remained sublimely statuesque.
"I say, without the slightest hesitation, that the person who is
responsible for the education of that young woman has committed a
crime against society."
Mr. Ely turned on Mrs. Clive with something that was very like a
snarl. The old lady started. For the first time it seemed to occur to
her that the words were spoken with intention. Mr. Ash, who was still
engaged upon his chin, did not appear to be able to go quite as far as
his friend.
"That--eh--is perhaps a strongish thing to say--hardly crime--but it
really does appear that blame rests somewhere--it really does."
But Mr. Ely was not to be gainsayed. No toning down of truths for him!
"I said, and I say again, that the person who is responsible for the
bringing up of that young woman has committed a crime against
society." He turned so that he looked Mrs. Clive straight in the face.
"A girl is entrusted to her aunt to receive her education. If that
aunt betrays her trust--miseducates the child!--then I challenge
contradiction when I say that that aunt pulls away one of the props,
the absence of whose support threatens to undermine the very fabric of
society."
"Eh--there is--eh--of course one must admit that there is a certain
substratum of truth in that."
"Is it possible"--smoothing the front of her dress with her two hands,
it was evident that Mrs. Clive was awaking to the nature of the
outrageous attack of which she was being made the victim--"is it
possible that these remarks are directed against me?"
Thrusting his thumbs into his waistcoat armholes, Mr. Ely began to
stride about the room.
"Oh, it's easy to throw about oneself the cloak of womanhood, and to
claim that the privilege of sex exonerates from blame, but I should
like to know, if this is to be the fate of the coming generation of
young women, what will our future mothers be?"
Imitating Mr. Ely, Mr. Ash also thrust his thumbs into his waistcoat
armholes.
"Just so! What will our future mothers be?"
"Our future mothers! Am I not a mother, then?"
But neither of the gentlemen paid the slightest attention to Mrs.
Clive.
"It is not a question of our mothers only, it is a question of our
fathers, too!"
"That is so. There can be no doubt that the maternal and paternal
questions are closely intertwined."
"I never thought"--Mrs. Clive produced her handkerchief--"I never
thought that I should have lived to see this day!"
Mrs. Clive began to cry; but neither of the gentlemen seemed at all
abashed. They had a duty to perform, and evidently meant to carry it
through.
"'Our acts our judges are, for good or ill.
Fatal shadows--which march by us still!'"
It was such an unusual thing for Mr. Ely to essay quotation that it
was not surprising if the poet's words got slightly mangled in
production. "The thing you do is like the seed you sow, it grows and
grows until it assumes gigantic proportions, and blights your life and
the lives of all whose paths you cross. You cannot get away from
that!"
"You certainly cannot get away from that! That is well put--very well
put, indeed!"
But Mrs. Clive was not to be trampled upon in silence. She turned on
Mr. Ely with undaunted mien.
"May I ask, Mr. Ely, for an explanation of the language which you
use?"
"Your niece, ma'am, is sufficient explanation. You say that what she
is she owes to you. I presume her singular notions of morality among
the rest!"
"Ahem!" Mr. Ash contented himself with clearing his throat.
"Mr. Ely, I am as much surprised at my niece's behaviour as you can
possibly be."
"Surprised, madam! Why are you surprised? You say that you have handed
on to her the precepts which you yourself imbibed at your mother's
knee!"
"Sir!" Mrs. Clive turned towards Mr. Ash with her grandest air. "Mr.
Ash, may I ask you to protect me from this gentleman?"
"I certainly understood you to say," stammered Mr. Ash, when he was
thus appealed to, "that you had handed on to her the precepts which
you had imbibed at your mother's knees?"
"Mr. Ash!" Up went the handkerchief to the injured lady's eyes.
"It's easy enough to cry," sneered Mr. Ely. "I believe that some
people keep a stock of tears on hand. At the same time"--he turned on
Mr. Ash with a sudden ferocity that was really startling--"don't
suppose for a moment that I acquit you entirely from blame."
Mrs. Clive's tears were checked in the very act of starting to her
eyes. Mr. Ash, about to move from the position in front of the
fireplace which he had occupied until then, was apparently momentarily
turned into stone. This sudden change of front seemed to take him very
much aback.
"Oh, I know! I know!" continued Mr. Ely. "You may stare at me as much
as you please, but I'm not to be frightened by your looks! I've not
forgotten how you tried to rob me once before."
"This," exclaimed Mr. Ash, looking up, as though he apostrophised the
skies, "is the most outrageous attack of which I ever heard!"
He had apparently forgotten that Mrs. Clive had just been the victim
of a very similar attack in which he and his present antagonist had
joined their forces.
"Bah!" cried Mr. Ely; "stuff and nonsense! Whenever there is any dirty
work about I always see your hand. Who robbed me of a thousand
pounds!"
"This," exclaimed Mr. Ash, extending his hands as though he were
addressing an unseen audience, "is the man who robbed me of five
hundred and thirty-three pounds thirteen and fourpence!"
Mr. Ely flung himself upon a seat and nursed his knee.
"If I had done what I ought to have done, I should have locked you
up."
"Locked me up!" The words were gasped rather than spoken.
Mr. Ash turned to Mrs. Clive with the apparent intention of explaining
to her the situation--it perhaps required explanation. "Madam, you see
this man" ("this man" was the recent friend of his bosom, Frederic
Ely), "he is so incapable of concealing his true character that even
an inexperienced girl has found him out, and because she--very
properly--refuses to have anything to do with him at any price, he
turns on me! Madam," Mr. Ash became warmer as he spoke, "you are not
acquainted with the intricacies of the Stock Exchange, but I think you
will understand me when I tell you that I once sold him a quantity of
a certain stock, and when there was a fall, so that there was a profit
in my favour of five hundred and thirty-three pounds thirteen
shillings, he had the audacity to say that I had bought, not sold, and
he actually declared that the transaction had referred to double
amount of the stock than was in reality the case, and he even
preferred a claim against me for over a thousand pounds!"
"How shocking!" said Mrs. Clive. Though it may be suspected that she
would have found it difficult to explain what was shocking if she had
been required to do so on the spot.
Mr. Ely rose from his seat. He seemed more at his ease than he had
been since he entered the room, as though falling out with Mr. Ash had
relieved his mind.
"Ah," he observed, "that's the sort of man he is; if he robbed his
mother he would swear that she'd robbed him. But perhaps he's not to
blame. According to the new philosophy that sort of thing is in the
blood."
Mr. Ash turned pale.
"Mrs. Clive, may I ask you to withdraw?"
"That's another of his dodges; he doesn't want you to know what sort
of man he is. But I don't mind telling you, not the least. He's not
the sort of man I should care to choose to be trustee to my girl. He
is the sort of man who regards a trusteeship as the royal road to
wealth."
Mr. Ash began to grow angry, which was not surprising on the whole.
"Mrs. Clive, that man is the greatest thief in town."
"That's why he wanted me to marry his ward--that we might go halves,
you know."
This remark so evidently enraged Mr. Ash that Mrs. Clive actually
feared that hostilities would be commenced upon her drawing-room
floor. She endeavoured to interpose.
"Gentlemen, I must beg of you to consider where you are!"
"You mustn't ask from him impossibilities; he can't realise that he's
in a respectable house, you know."
Mr. Ash almost foamed at the lips.
"If you will not withdraw, Mrs. Clive, then in your presence I shall
be compelled to thrash this man within an inch of his life."
"Gentlemen! I do beg of you!--I pray!"
"There's not the slightest occasion to be alarmed. Threatened men
proverbially live long. Honest men know from experience that they can
listen unmoved to the tall language used by the more doubtful members
of society."
Mr. Ely ostentatiously jingled the money in his trouser pockets, and
smiled a beatific smile.
"You hound!"
Mrs. Clive was in time to seize Mr. Ash's uplifted arm.
"Mr. Ash!" she cried.
"Hallo, Ash! What's the matter, Ash? Want to exhibit a little valour
on the cheap?"
"You cur!"
Mr. Ash caught Mr. Ely by the collar, and Mr. Ely sprang at Mr. Ash's
throat. The lady screamed. A very pretty fight was spoiled by the
sudden appearance of other actors on the scene.