AN INTERVIEW
Nigel, filled with curiosity, and rather anxious, arrived punctually to
the moment. He was shown into Percy's chambers by a stout and
prosperous-looking middle-aged clerk, with a gold watch-chain.
He waited there for some minutes, walking slowly up and down the room
and examining it. It was a very dull, serious room, almost depressing.
On the large table lay bulbous important-looking briefs, tied up with
red tape. Framed caricatures of judges and eminent barristers from
_Vanity Fair_ hung round the walls. The furniture was scarce, large and
heavy. On the mantelpiece was a framed photograph with a closed leather
cover. It looked interesting and expensive, and Nigel with his quick
movements had the curiosity to go across the room to open it. It
contained two lovely photographs of Bertha: one in furs and a hat, the
other in evening dress. It irritated Nigel. ... A sound of footsteps
gave him only just time to close it with a spring, and sit down.
Percy came in looking as Nigel had never seen him look before. There had
been an unimportant case in court, but he had been unable to get away
before. He was so orderly as a rule that he detested keeping anybody
waiting. He looked flushed and hurried, and his black smooth hair was
extraordinarily rough and wild. Of course, Nigel remembered, he had just
taken off his wig. There was a red line on his forehead, the mark left
by this ornament. The effect made him look like a different person. He
threw off his coat and spoke seriously and rather formally.
"Sorry, Hillier. Delayed in court. Hope I haven't kept you?"
"It doesn't matter in the least," Nigel answered in his cheery way.
Nigel was looking exceedingly at ease, and happy, though the manner was
really assumed to-day. He was very smartly dressed, with light gloves
and a buttonhole of violets, and looked a gay contrast to Percy, with
his unusually rough hair and solemn expression.
"I was very interested. I don't think I've ever seen a barrister's
chambers before. Jolly rooms you've got here. What a charming place the
Temple is. ... Well! I've been simply dying of curiosity," he went on,
with a pleasant smile.
"Sit down," said Percy. "Have a cigarette?"
Nigel lighted up. Percy did not.
"It's not very pleasant what I want to say to you. It's simply that I
don't want you to come to our house any more."
Nigel looked surprised and coloured slightly.
"And may I ask your reason?"
"I don't see why I should give it, but I will. I don't wish you to see
my wife any more."
"This is very extraordinary, Kellynch! Why?"
"I've reason to believe that your old friendship has been the cause of
some talk--some scandal. I don't like it. I won't have it, and that's
sufficient. I insist on you avoiding her in future."
Nigel stared blankly.
"I can only agree of course. I'll do just as you tell me. But I think,
as we've known each other so long, that it would be only fair for you to
tell me what is your reason for thinking this."
Nigel walked up and down the room, turned suddenly and said: "What has
put this idea into your head?"
Percy hesitated a moment.
"I'll tell you if you like. But, mind, I want no explanations. I needn't
say," he glanced at the closed photograph, "that I could have no doubt
of any kind. ... But I have a right to choose my friends and my wife's
also."
"She doesn't object?"
Percy frowned and looked him straight in the face.
"I undertake to say she will not object. We'll make this conversation as
short as we can. You've asked me my reason and I'll give it you. I've
had a series of extraordinary anonymous letters concerning you."
Nigel stared, horrified.
"She knows nothing about it," continued Percy, "and I attach no
importance to them, except, as I say, they show that your acquaintance
must have been misconstrued, and I won't have a shadow ... on her."
"This is rather hard on me, Kellynch. However, I have the satisfaction
of knowing my conscience is absolutely clear, and of course, I'll do
just as you wish. Have you any objection to showing me the letters?"
After a moment's pause, Percy said:
"No. I don't know that I have. I've got them here. I meant to shove them
in the fire, but I'll let you read them first, if you like."
He went to a drawer, unlocked it, gave Nigel the letters, and watched
him while he read them.
* * * * *
The moment Nigel glanced at them he knew they were written by Mary. He
remembered by the dates when she had had the typewriter; he remembered,
even, seeing some of the white notepaper. He read them all. Then he
looked up and said:
"Kellynch, it's good of you to show these to me. I'm sorry to say I know
who wrote them. The earlier ones telling of the appointments are all
perfectly true, but entirely misrepresented. They can all be explained."
"I understand that," said Percy. "Of course the suggestion and the
impression the writer tries to give are absolutely false."
"Quite so. May I burn the letters now?"
There was a fire and Nigel threw them into it. He saw no point in
keeping them to confront Mary with. She would confess anyhow.
"May I ask one thing more?"
"My wife knows nothing about them," repeated Percy.
Nigel thought what a pity that was. If she had, she would not have come
to the party; things might have been tided over. But now. ... He had no
hope of the wish of his life, he was as furious as a spoilt child who
is deprived of a favourite toy--or, rather, disappointed of all hopes of
getting one. He became more and more angry with Percy and longed to
annoy him. The fellow was too satisfied--too lucky--he had everything
too much his own way!
"May I ask one thing?" said Nigel, as the letters were burning and he
gave them one last irritated touch with the poker, "may I ask, does this
affair give you the impression that I--only I naturally--had
any--er--motives in trying to see Mrs. Kellynch often? If I may put it
plainly, did you think I cared for her in a way that I had no right to?"
"To tell you the honest truth," said Percy, "as I choose to be frank
with you, I won't say you had ... motives, but I have the impression
that you--er--admire her too much."
Nigel waited a moment.
"And there you are perfectly right, Kellynch."
Percy started up, looking a little pale.
* * * * *
Nigel had got a little of his revenge.
He had annoyed the comfortable Percy.
"But let me say that all this time I have never, never shown it by word
or look. Our talks were almost entirely about Madeline Irwin and my
brother, or about Rupert Denison. Your wife is so exceedingly kind and
good that she wished to see Miss Madeline as happy as herself."
"Yes, yes, I know all that," said Percy impatiently.
"I shall follow your wishes to the very letter," said Nigel. "You see
how very open I've been. How will you explain to her that I drop your
acquaintance?"
"I think I shall tell her now," said Percy, "that I had received a
letter and that I've seen you. But I shall tell her we parted the best
of friends, and nothing must be done, above all things, to annoy or
agitate her."
He looked at the closed leather case again.
"Just now I want to take special care of her. I daresay she won't notice
not meeting you, as we're not going out in the evening the rest of the
season nor entertaining."
Nigel looked amazed. An idea occurred to him that caused him absurd
mortification. It dawned upon his mind that perhaps Bertha was going to
have her wish. If so, he would be forgotten more completely than ever.
"Forgive me for asking, Kellynch. I think you've been very good to me,
really. I trust your wife is not ill?"
"Ill?--oh dear, no."
Percy smiled a smile that to Nigel seemed maddeningly complacent. "She
merely wants a little care for a time. We shall go to the country very
early this year. As a matter of fact, it's something she's very pleased
about." He stopped.
Nigel gave a pale smile. Percy was too irritating!
"Well, you were right not to worry her about the letters. I'm very sorry
for the whole thing. I think it's been hard on me, Kellynch."
He stood up.
"Good-bye, Hillier!"
Nigel held out his hand; Percy shook it coldly.
As he went to the door, taking up his hat and stick, Nigel said:
"I sincerely hope you won't miss me!"