She took a few slow steps into the doorway; then stopped.
“I shall not change, Anthony--in Paris!” she said, and hurried in
without looking back.
*****
I have succeeded in getting reservations for her on the Trans-Siberian,
leaving Harbin on the 23rd. That means starting from Peking on the
21st--in three days.
She says that she will not mind the long journey alone. I wish I knew of
some American or English family that is going through to Moscow on that
train. But I feel pretty sure that she will make the acquaintance of
some fairly congenial group of tourists.
Sometimes I think of troubles that may come to her in case she should
meet with no such good fortune; and then my head becomes hot and I
have to clench my hands and walk out in the air. There will be men of
course--and ten long days of that train! Certain ugly phrases of Sir
Robert's float to the surface of my thoughts and stay there to irritate
me. I can't help dwelling a little on the sinister code of the white men
who travel in the East.
But it is no good thinking of these things. Heloise says they are only
the chances of life, and that we have to take those. “And Anthony,” she
added to-day, “they can annoy me, but they can't hurt me--they can't
make any difference.”
_April 19th. Noon._
|I SENT one of my letters of introduction to the American Minister
to-day, by coolie.
He replied at once, with a cordial chit asking me to tea this afternoon.
I find that Hindmann knows him. and has spoken of me to him. It turns
out that the Minister regards himself as something of an amateur in
Chinese music. He knew my name.
“He showed me a big book,” said Hindmann, in telling me about it,
last night. “Had a lot of queer music scales in it, and pictures of
instruments. He said it was the standard authority on the subject.”
“What book?” I asked him.
“Don't remember the title,” said he.
“But think, man! Think! Who wrote it?”
“Did n't notice that, either. Some German, though.”
“That can not be,” said I, with some excitement, I will admit. “Neither
Boag nor von Stumbostel is within five years of publishing the results
of his researches. I am nearer it than they.
“My first volume, 'The Origins of Musical Sound,' stands now in galley
proof and will be published within two years. No, no, no! There is no
German work that is the authority on primitive music. There is, as yet,
no authoritative work. Van Haalst, Elton, Père Avard, and twenty others,
merely pointed the way. All of them pointed the way wrong in certain
important respects. No, if there is an authority, it is myself. I am
the standard authority. The Minister does not know what he is talking
about.”
Hindmann grinned.
“Seems to me,” he observed, “it was published at Bonn.”
“At Bonn!” I shouted at him--“At Bonn!”
“Yes--I'm sure it was Bonn.”
“It was not the book of von Westfall?”
“That's it,” said he, nodding. “That's the guy--von Westfall.”
So the influence of that scoundrel has penetrated to Peking! He has
actually got himself regarded as an “authority”! I did n't know what
to say or think. But Hindmann calmed me down a good deal. He has a
steadying influence on me, anyway.
“You needn't sputter at me,” he said. “I did n't write it.”
“I know,” said I. “But I was not thinking of you. I do not know what to
do. I was to have had tea with the Minister to-day.”
“Well,” remarked Hindmann, around his cigar, “why not?”
“Why not?” I repeated. “It is impossible. This man will wish to talk my
subject--my subject!--with the work of that charlatan at his elbow. No,
I will not talk with him. I can not. Don't you see?”
“No,” said Hindmann, “not exactly.”
“I am at once placed in competition with one that I know to be an
absolute impostor. The Minister will take seriously what he regards as
his own views. But they will not be his own--they will be the views of
von Westfall. Don't you see? I can't go!”
Hindmann sat for a little while, smoking and thinking. He has a very
comfortable way of settling his plump person into a big arm-chair.
“Look here,” he said. “You want to go over there. It's worth doing.”
I'm afraid I sniffed at this.
“But it is,” he went on. “So what you want to do is to go right ahead
with it. Don't be licked by a book.”
He did n't quite understand me there. I was not “licked” at all, and I
told him so.
“Prove it by going, then.” he said.
“But I'm afraid I shall insult him. I shall have to say what I believe.”
“Go ahead and insult him, then,” said he; and he took out his cigar and
grinned cheerfully.
_Same date._
|I GOT Hindmann to help me out with the notes and the assignment of her
interest in the estate.
He knows all about these things. He got blank note forms from the
manager of the hotel. And he himself dictated the assignment paper to a
Japanese stenographer. It was astonishing to me to hear him do this;
on matters of legal phraseology, and where precise statement of fact is
required, he is very clear-headed. But then, I suppose that my peculiar
faculties would be equally surprising and interesting to him.
The document worried me a good deal. It is quite long; and it makes over
to me, in the most unequivocal language, Heloise's entire interest in
the property. It is worded harshly and sharply. Just reading it, I
had the unpleasant feeling that I was forcing her to sign away to me
everything she may possess in the world as security for a paltry loan.
“What's the matter with it?” asked Hindmann, watching my face.
“It has such a horribly ironclad look,” said I. “Then why make her sign
it?”
“Because she'd never in the world accept the money, any other way.”
“Oh,” said he, very thoughtful.
“Look here,” I suggested, “could n't you modify it a little? Make it not
quite so strong?”
He shook his head. “It's the regular legal form, Eckhart. I've had to do
this sort of thing half a dozen times.” He smoked a little. “I suppose
you know it is n't worth a hang.”
“Not worth anything?”
“Poorest security in the world. It won't be even partly binding until
the executor of the estate has pledged himself to you to execute the
agreement, and to accept personal responsibility in the matter. Full of
holes, that thing is.”
I did n't dare let him know how my heart jumped at this. I am glad it is
n't binding. I only wish it did n't look so ugly. I can't bear to think
of watching her face when she reads it. I fear it will depress her. And
she will have to struggle to conceal her depression.
I have figured it out that I can spare a thousand dollars from my letter
of credit now. So that all she will have to do is to sign that document
and one note for a thousand dollars. Then when I send her the next
draft I need only enclose a new note for her signature. At Hindmann's
suggestion I am going to draw each note to run a relatively short
time--a year, say. Then I can look after the renewing of them myself,
from time to time.
The thousand dollars that I let her have now will of course have to come
out of my research money, which is really not mine at all. But at the
same time that I write Harbury, of the Foundation, to sell my real
estate bonds and the two railway bonds that are at the Trust Company, I
shall ask him to notify the Committee that I have diverted this amount
for personal use and request him to hold back an equal amount from this
money of my own that he will be sending me, against the draft on my
letter of credit. Hindmann has drawn up just the paper for me to send
Harbury, giving him complete power to dispose of the properties for
me. Really, I don't know what I should have done in all these financial
complications without that fat man.
One thing I am very glad of. It is n't going to pinch me at all to
do this for Heloise. My salary will go right on, of course; and the
research fund will be there as before. I shan't even have to skimp on
hotels and small purchases. To tell the truth, I was worried, a little,
when I made that offer to her the other day. I did n't realize, at the
moment, how much money I have, and how easy it is to get at. This way,
I can look right into her eyes and tell her that I shall not be the less
comfortable for one single hour; and I can tell her with such conviction
that she will know it for the truth. It won't be nearly so hard for her.
_Same date._
|I CAN'T take those papers over. I just can't. I'm going to send them by
messenger.
I'm sending the money too--in gold--in a bag. A thousand dollars. The
messenger will have instructions to remain with her, and carry the money
to the Hongkong bank for her in order that she may convert the greater
part of it into traveler's checks or a letter of credit. It will be best
for me not to appear in this transaction, of course.
I am sending it to-day because surely she will have little purchases
to make, and I know how irritating it is to a person of spirit to be
dependent on another for small sums of money.
I did not foresee how deeply it would stir me to do this little thing.
It has roused unfamiliar, haunting thoughts and feelings and day dreams.
I have been thinking of children, and of the wonderful pleasure of doing
for them and making them happy....
This will not do.