Keith woke at five o'clock, his usual hour, without remembrance. But
the grisly shadow started up when he entered his study, where the lamp
burned, and the fire shone, and the coffee was set ready, just as when
yesterday afternoon Larry had stood out there against the wall. For a
moment he fought against realisation; then, drinking off his coffee, sat
down sullenly at the bureau to his customary three hours' study of the
day's cases.
Not one word of his brief could he take in. It was all jumbled with
murky images and apprehensions, and for full half an hour he suffered
mental paralysis. Then the sheer necessity of knowing something of the
case which he had to open at half-past ten that morning forced him to a
concentration which never quite subdued the malaise at the bottom of his
heart. Nevertheless, when he rose at half-past eight and went into
the bathroom, he had earned his grim satisfaction in this victory of
will-power. By half-past nine he must be at Larry's. A boat left London
for the Argentine to-morrow. If Larry was to get away at once, money
must be arranged for. And then at breakfast he came on this paragraph in
the paper:
“SOHO MURDER.
“Enquiry late last night established the fact that the Police have
discovered the identity of the man found strangled yesterday morning
under an archway in Glove Lane. An arrest has been made.”
By good fortune he had finished eating, for the words made him feel
physically sick. At this very minute Larry might be locked up, waiting
to be charged-might even have been arrested before his own visit to the
girl last night. If Larry were arrested, she must be implicated. What,
then, would be his own position? Idiot to go and look at that archway,
to go and see the girl! Had that policeman really followed him home?
Accessory after the fact! Keith Darrant, King's Counsel, man of mark! He
forced himself by an effort, which had something of the heroic, to drop
this panicky feeling. Panic never did good. He must face it, and see. He
refused even to hurry, calmly collected the papers wanted for the day,
and attended to a letter or two, before he set out in a taxi-cab to
Fitzroy Street.
Waiting outside there in the grey morning for his ring to be answered,
he looked the very picture of a man who knew his mind, a man of
resolution. But it needed all his will-power to ask without tremor: “Mr.
Darrant in?” to hear without sign of any kind the answer: “He's not up
yet, sir.”
“Never mind; I'll go in and see him. Mr. Keith Darrant.”
On his way to Laurence's bedroom, in the midst of utter relief, he had
the self-possession to think: 'This arrest is the best thing that could
have happened. It'll keep their noses on a wrong scent till Larry's got
away. The girl must be sent off too, but not with him.' Panic had ended
in quite hardening his resolution. He entered the bedroom with a feeling
of disgust. The fellow was lying there, his bare arms crossed behind his
tousled head, staring at the ceiling, and smoking one of many cigarettes
whose ends littered a chair beside him, whose sickly reek tainted the
air. That pale face, with its jutting cheek-bones and chin, its hollow
cheeks and blue eyes far sunk back--what a wreck of goodness!
He looked up at Keith through the haze of smoke and said quietly: “Well,
brother, what's the sentence? 'Transportation for life, and then to be
fined forty pounds?'.
The flippancy revolted Keith. It was Larry all over! Last night
horrified and humble, this morning, “Don't care” and feather-headed. He
said sourly:
“Oh! You can joke about it now?”
Laurence turned his face to the wall.
“Must.”
Fatalism! How detestable were natures like that!
“I've been to see her,” he said.
“You?”
“Last night. She can be trusted.”
Laurence laughed.
“That I told you.”
“I had to see for myself. You must clear out at once, Larry. She can
come out to you by the next boat; but you can't go together. Have you
any money?”
“No.”
“I can foot your expenses, and lend you a year's income in advance. But
it must be a clean cut; after you get out there your whereabouts must
only be known to me.”
A long sigh answered him.
“You're very good to me, Keith; you've always been very good. I don't
know why.”